Asp - The.first - Step.to - Understanding.plato - Ebook EEn

PLATO
within your grasp
By Brian Proffitt
PLATO
within your grasp
By Brian Proffitt
Plato Within Your Grasp
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Table of Contents
Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .v
1 Plato’s Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1
Plato’s Early Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2
A Silver Spoon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .2
A Time of War . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .3
The Influence of Socrates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4
Meeting Socrates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .4
Becoming Socrates’s Student . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5
Defending Socrates . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6
Plato’s Travels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .7
The Opening of the Academy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8
Plato’s Return to Italy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .8
The Final Years . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .10
2 Plato’s Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11

The Socratic Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11
The Meaning of Virtue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .12
Writings of the Socratic Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .13
The Mature Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14
Separating Form from Function . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .14
Writings of the Mature Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .15
The Late Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .16
Continuing the Conversation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .17
Writings of the Mature Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .17
Other Works . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .18
3 Apology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19
Perspective on Apology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19
Opening Statements, Cross Exam, and Closing Arguments . . . . . . . . . .21
Guilt by Reputation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .23
Taking on the Accusers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27
Unafraid of Death . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .33
Found Guilty . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .35
A Man Condemned . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .37
iv Table of Contents
4 Meno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .39
Perspective on Meno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .39
The Nature of Virtue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .40
The Paradox of Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .46
Teaching Virtue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .49
Knowledge and Belief . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .51
5 Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .53
Perspective on Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .53
Characters of Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .54
The Themes of Republic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .55
Book I: Beginning the Search for Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .56
Book II: A City of Justice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .60
Book III: Educating the Guardians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .63
Book IV: The City as Soul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .66
Book V: Refining the City Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .70
Book VI: The Search for a Philosopher-King . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .73
Book VII: Rising Out of the Cave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .76
Book VIII: Beyond Callipolis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .78
Book IX: Justice versus Injustice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .80
Book X: Loose Ends . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .82
Further Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .83

Plato’s Main Works . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .83
Collections, Biographies, and Critical Works . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .83
Plato Web Sites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .84
General Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .84
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .85
Acknowledgments
I would like to thank my editors on this project—Acquisitions Editor Greg Tubach,
Project Editor Elizabeth Kuball, and Technical Editors Clifford Hull and Dave Stout.
Their efforts made this book shine. Thanks also to an old friend, Cindy Kitchel, for
allowing me to work on such a fun project.
Love and thanks to my family for putting up with long nights locked away in
Daddy’s office (me, not them) and with listening patiently while I described Plato
as a dude with some serious family issues.
Thanks to God and Jesus Christ for the gift of writing and learning.
1 Plato’s Life
“I am that gadfly which God has given the

state and all day long and in all places am
always fastening upon you, arousing and per-
suading and reproaching you.”
—Socrates, Apology
Plato has been called, with no exaggeration, the Father of Western Philosophy.
Though he hadn’t aspired to such a role, he probably would not have shied away
from it. (He was not known for his humility.) Like many other great figures in his-
tory, Plato came to play the role he did as much because of circumstance and chance
as because of his own decisions.
What we know about Plato today, nearly 2,400 years after his death, stems mostly
from his numerous writings (some 650,000 words have been attributed to his hand,
according to Plato historian Christopher Planeaux). Through what he mentions in
his work, and through biographies of Plato written by his contemporaries, we have
produced a fairly good picture of what Plato’s life was like.
But this picture, like most old images, has been blurred by time. Some of what
we know of Plato stems from writings that tried to make him seem legendary in
stature, so it is important to try to weed out some of the more grandiose descrip-
tions of his background. Other information comes from his letters, the only writ-
ten work from Plato where he actually mentions events in his life. Unfortunately,
there is some dispute as to whether all the letters attributed to Plato were even writ-
ten by him, placing their accuracy in question.
This book covers the information on Plato’s life that is believed to be true by
most scholars; alternative theories about Plato are mentioned for the sake of com-
pleteness, but not in great detail. (You can find more information on Plato and his
life by consulting one of the references in the appendix at the end of this book.)
2 Plato within your grasp
Plato’s Early Life

There is some debate as to whether Plato was actually the philosopher’s given name
or a nickname that was generally accepted. It has been suggested by some, includ-
ing Planeaux, that Plato’s real name was Aristocles and that Plato was a nickname
that loosely translates to “the broad.” It isn’t known whether broad refers to the width
of his shoulders, the size of his forehead, or a description of his personality. Regard-
less, the name Plato seems to have stuck, at least with modern scholars.
A Silver Spoon
Most scholars believe that Plato was born in the year 427 B.C.E. in Athens, the third
child of Ariston and Perictone. He had two older brothers and a younger sister. The
family was one of the more wealthy in the Greek city-state of Athens, which had
been democratically organized for just over 80 years when Plato was born. A city-
state was a political organization in ancient Greece that tended to be geographically
small areas dominated by a central metropolitan organization.
Some of the more legend-minded biographers and peers of Plato maintained
that Plato descended from a long line of rulers that included Codrus, the last king
of Athens. Whether this is true is a matter of debate. But it is generally well estab-
lished that Plato’s family was politically strong and active in Athenian society. In
Plato’s later years, these political connections would dramatically affect his life.
What influence Plato’s father might have had on his third-born will unfortu-
nately never be known, as Ariston died when Plato was very young. In keeping with
Athenian tradition, which held that a woman could not head a household, Plato’s
mother soon remarried. From his mother’s second marriage, Plato would get a
half-brother.
Not much is known about Plato’s early years. Like most Greek men of his time,
he would have likely received the best education his family could afford. Given the
political background of his family, he was very likely groomed for a life of politics
and leadership.
Many biographers have pointed to evidence that Plato was skilled in the physi-
cal arts as well as the mental ones. Gifted with a strong body and athletic prowess,
Plato won many wrestling contests, a sport that was among the most popular in
Greece at the time. That he was so healthy and skilled in athletics is a testament to
his family’s financial status.
Although Plato’s family was prosperous in Athens, they did not particularly enjoy
the leadership under which they lived. Being wealthy and tracing (if somewhat
ambiguously) their lineage back to ruling nobles, families like Plato’s grew
Plato’s Life 3
increasingly discontent under the democratic rule of law. Apparently, what pros-
perity they had was not enough, and families like Plato’s missed the past, when their
families ruled over everything instead of just participating in government with other,
less-noble people as equals. This attitude left quite an impression on the young Plato,
whose political leanings would always remain opposed to the concept of democracy.
A Time of War
Just before the birth of Plato, Athens found itself embroiled in the midst of a rather
bothersome war. If this description sounds nonchalant, it reflects the initial attitude
the Athenians had toward the war and their enemy, the city-state of Sparta. The war
between Athens and Sparta would have a profound impact on Plato’s life.
Athens and Sparta had long been at odds with each other. The problem wasn’t
just that the city-states differed in their approaches, but that each city-state thought
its methods would be best to rule over all of mainland Greece. Athens preferred a
democratic approach to self-governance, while Sparta opted for a militaristic tyranny
to rule itself. Although Sparta’s expansionist army was generally greater than that of
Athens, Sparta had been soundly beaten by Athens’s massive navy and forced to sign
a 30-year armistice.
Chafing under the enforced peace, Sparta, a very militaristic society, began to
build up its armies for another try at Athens. In 431 B.C.E., four years before the
birth of Plato, Sparta found its excuse in a small border skirmish and quickly set
upon Athens with its large army. Athens resignedly set itself up for another con-
frontation with Sparta. Even though Sparta’s army outnumbered Athens two to one,
Athens had its own secret weapon: a very large navy, which Athens quickly used to
bypass the land-based Spartans and attack Sparta directly.
Though each side felt that it would soon gain the upper hand, a stalemate arose
between the two warring sides, as neither Athens nor Sparta could get a clear victory.
Ultimately, the two city-states agreed to another armistice: the 50-year Peace of Nicias.
Nicias was the ruling general of the Athenian forces at the time he helped craft this
peace agreement, which basically allowed both sides to go home with nothing lost
and nothing gained. He is described by his peers as a cautious and patient general,
but he had rivals in the Athenian government who would soon cause him more
trouble than Sparta ever did.
One of Nicias’s rivals was Alcibiades, a very talented politician and orator. In 415
B.C.E., when Plato was 12 years old, Alcibiades whipped the Athenian Assembly, the
ruling body of Athens, into an expansionist frenzy and convinced the leaders to send
the army and navy to conquer the Greek city-states on the island of Sicily. Such a
victory would have brought much wealth and power to the Athenian Empire had
the plan worked.
Unfortunately, the army, still led by Nicias, was completely defeated, and half of
the once-powerful Athenian navy was burned and sunk in the Syracuse harbor in
413 B.C.E. To make matters worse, Sparta took notice of the outcome. Worse still,
the Persians, whom Athens also trounced in the first half of the fifth century B.C.E.,
decided to use the opportunity to take revenge on Athens.
Athens was attacked by two powerful and allied opponents: Sparta and Persia.
With its military forces severely depleted, Athens fought a very good fight, fending
off its allied enemies for a few years. But in 405 B.C.E., the remainder of the Athen-
ian navy was defeated, which left the city-state up for grabs. One year later, Athens
surrendered completely to Sparta.
For its part, Sparta did what most conquering powers would have done at that
time: It tore down the walls of Athens, forbade Athens from ever having a navy
again, and put its own puppet government in place, a group of 30 Athenians who
would become known as the Thirty Tyrants. Among the Thirty Tyrants were Plato’s
uncle and great-uncle, who soon invited the 23-year-old Plato to participate in the
new ruling government of the now-conquered Athens, an invitation he declined.
The Influence of Socrates

Determining how much influence Socrates the teacher had on Plato the student is
difficult, particularly because most of the biographical knowledge we have about
Socrates comes from Plato himself. This is mainly due to one very important dif-
ference in the approaches of Plato and Socrates: Plato typically wrote his important
thoughts down, while Socrates thought writing a waste of time and instead followed
a more oral tradition. It is important to recognize that without the diligence of Plato,
the thoughts and teachings of Socrates would be forever lost.
Meeting Socrates
Exactly when Plato first met Socrates is a matter of conjecture by many historians.
Most traditional views place their first meeting fairly early in Plato’s life, when he was
20. Although this is certainly when Plato became Socrates’s student, other histori-
ans have speculated that the pupil actually met his future teacher quite a bit earlier.
This earlier meeting was likely to have occurred when Plato was a boy, as he
was being groomed for the family “business” of Athenian politics. Socrates was a
close associate of Plato’s family, including his mother’s brother Charmides and his
mother’s uncle Critas. Although Charmides and Critas participated in the Athenian
democracy, they did so begrudgingly; they still longed for the earlier days when their
family was one of the ruling families of Athens. Socrates, who was at best apathetic
about the concept of democracy, provided philosophical fuel to Plato’s kinsmen in
Plato’s Life 5
their quest to return to the good old days. Thus, it was likely that Plato met Socrates
earlier in Plato’s life, through one family function or another.
Before Plato became one of Socrates’s students, Plato learned the way other
upper-class Athenian men learned, becoming knowledgeable in the teachings of
Cratylus, Pythagoras, and Parmenides—pre-Socratic philosophers who stretched
Plato’s knowledge of the universe with the concepts of metaphysics and epistemol-
ogy (the study of the very nature of knowledge).
Aristotle, Plato’s future student, later wrote that Plato was also an accomplished
poet, his first major pursuit until he was the age of 20. At that time, Plato inexpli-
cably decided to burn all his poems and devote his attention to philosophy.
Becoming Socrates’s Student

When Plato was 20 years old (the age when he began to study with Socrates), Athens
was still in its desperate struggle against the Spartan and Persian armies. Athens’s
final defeat was only three years away.
A tale passed on from this time indicates that Plato considered leaving home to
become a mercenary soldier in the still ongoing war, and that Socrates talked him
out of it and asked Plato to join him instead. This may be more fable than truth,
but whatever the circumstances, Plato became one of Socrates’s faithful students.
When Plato began to study under Socrates, he pursued his teacher’s own quest
for the substance and meaning of virtue. As Socrates engaged in dialogues with his
students, the one overall theme was this quest for a noble character.
Plato, in an early display of the wisdom for which he is so renowned, was able
to use his background education to apply the question of virtue to politics and
morality. Plato reasoned that how we think and what we perceive as reality are impor-
tant components to how we act. So, in the journey to a virtuous life, a person should
always have a philosophical approach so he better molds himself with virtue. This
would be a tenet that Plato would hold throughout the rest of his life, even after he
grew past the teachings of Socrates and put forth his own unique ideas.
Plato was very good at unifying many different subjects—virtue, metaphysics,
epistemology, and politics, for example—into a single question that he would then
approach with methodical and careful reasoning. In fact, he was one of the first
(if not the first) philosophers in Western culture to combine different disciplines to
examine larger questions. But before he taught these ideas, Plato would first learn
at the feet of Socrates and focus on the issue that beguiled Socrates until his death:
the pursuit of the meaning of virtue.
Defending Socrates
After Athens was soundly defeated in 404 B.C.E., the Spartans and Persians divided
their respective spoils, and then Sparta opted to set up the puppet government
known as the Thirty Tyrants. The Tyrants (in those days, tyrant had the less-sinister
meaning of “leader”) were what is known as an oligarchy, a government made solely
of a small faction of people. Sparta chose members of the conquered Athenian
Assembly who would stay under the control of their Spartan masters and keep
Athens from ever becoming a threat to Sparta again. Among the Thirty Tyrants were
Plato’s kinsmen Critas and Charmides, who invited Plato to actively participate in
exerting their rule over the Athens puppet state.
Even though Plato was raised in an antidemocratic family and he himself tended
to lean away from democracy, he resisted joining his family in ruling Athens. This
was a surprising decision, because his great mentor, Socrates, was also a critic of the
old Athenian government, believing that nobility could not be found in leadership
by the masses. In fact, Socrates’s teachings would be forever linked to the Thirty
Tyrants, because they parroted his works in order to justify their actions.
Perhaps it was the Tyrants’ actions that repelled Plato, for the Thirty certainly
shaped the modern definition of the word tyrant with their violence and cruelty
toward the conquered citizens of Athens. Even though Socrates had many negative
beliefs about democratic government, he refused to actively involve himself in pol-
itics, preferring to stay out of such worldly affairs. Such neutrality may have influ-
enced Plato to stay out as well.
After a mere eight months, the Thirty Tyrants were violently overthrown and
replaced by a new democracy in 403 B.C.E. This new democracy, a far cry from the
old government, was a far more conservative and religious group of men—and it
was also a group that never forgot a grudge. After regaining power from the Thirty
Tyrants, the new democracy craftily began to take their revenge on the members of
that short-lived oligarchy and anyone who helped support the Tyrants. The new
democracy had to be careful, however, to prevent any overt revenge from reawak-
ening the ire of their Spartan masters. If this new democracy wanted to stay in power,
they would have to continue to receive the tolerance of Sparta.
They found the perfect target in Socrates. Although Socrates had maintained
all along that he didn’t want to actively participate in political affairs (and indeed,
he never did), the new government of Athens nonetheless saw him as the embodi-
ment of all that was wrong with the Tyrants’ rule. What gave the ruling power the
excuse to finish Socrates once and for all was Socrates’s continued insistence that his
search for truth and virtue was motivated by a divine dream. This dream was a sign
to him that he should continue to teach the young men of Athens a noble and vir-
tuous lifestyle—a lifestyle that the Athenian government perceived as decidedly
antidemocratic.
Plato’s Life 7
The government fed its own fears to the general public, who also remembered
how Socrates was associated with the Thirty Tyrants, until there was a great public
outcry to arrest Socrates and halt his teaching. In 399 B.C.E., Socrates was arrested
and charged with corruption of youth, participating in odd religious practices, intro-
ducing new gods, and atheism (though how one could believe in new gods and still
be an atheist is a point that seems to have been lost on the Athenian government).
Plato and the other students of Socrates immediately came to their teacher’s
defense, loudly and rightly defending their master in court and in the court of pub-
lic opinion. Though Socrates and his students did their best, as documented in
Plato’s Apology, Socrates was found guilty by a narrow margin and put to death a
month later. Plato visited his master often during this final month, but he did not
attend the execution of Socrates.
This event and the abuses of the Tyrants were pivotal to Plato’s decision to com-
pletely abandon the active pursuit of politics. Thus, Plato’s path to a purely philo-
sophical lifestyle was forever set. Disillusioned, Plato left Athens with his fellow
students to seek the elusive truth in other lands and cultures.
Plato’s Travels
Immediately after the execution of Socrates, Plato and his companions relocated to
nearby Megara, where a small school of Socratic thought was established. During
the next nine years (from 399 to 390 B.C.E.), Plato committed his first works to
writing, a body of works that included Laches, Protagoras, and Apology. These works
are collectively known as Plato’s Socratic dialogues, because they are heavily focused
on and influenced by his late teacher.
During this same period, it is speculated that Plato did a two-year stint (between
395 and 394 B.C.E.) with the military, possibly fighting in the Corinthian War, in
which Athens and a collection of other city-states banded together to overthrow
Spartan rule. It is not known for sure if he did indeed fight in this war, though there
are some legends that he fought well enough to gain some decorations. During this
time, Plato is also supposed to have journeyed to Egypt, where he visited Alexandria
and possibly learned the secrets of the water clock, which he would bring back to
Greek society. Again, this information is not well documented, so it may fall under
the category of apocrypha.
What is known for sure is that Plato traveled to southern Italy for the first time
in 390 B.C.E., at the age of 37. There he met Archytas of Tarentum, who was lead-
ing a resurgence in the study of the works of Pythagoras. This exposure to Pythagore-
anism had very profound effects on Plato; it formed the foundation of the notion
that mathematics was the truest way of expressing the universe that Man could use.
These ideas showed up in many of his later works, including Republic, as Plato used
mathematical concepts to describe the nature of the universe and the human mind.
It was here in Sicily that Plato met Dion of Syracuse, the brother-in-law of
Dionysius I, who ruled Sicily with an iron hand. Dion became Plato’s student and
close friend. Dionysius I, ever wary of Dion attempting to gain his throne, ulti-
mately sent Plato away from Sicily in what appears to be a fit of resentment. Plato
returned to his Athenian home and began the next phase of his life and writings.
The Opening of the Academy

Upon his return to Athens, Plato founded a new school on land a mile outside the
city that was sacred to the old Greek hero Academus. The school, named after this
hero and called the Academy, was founded in 387 B.C.E. and contained open land,
a gymnasium, and several shrines, including one to Athena, the patron goddess of
Athens. Plato’s goal for the Academy was to teach young men how to become
enlightened in the ways of governing so that they would grow into philosopher-
rulers or wise advisors to rulers.
Plato’s Academy flourished, as men from all over the Athens region journeyed
to hear and learn from him. Indeed, he began to obtain an almost cultic following,
and it was in this time period that many divine motivations and rationales were
attributed to Plato. It is unclear whether Plato himself encouraged such attributions,
but he did make one thing clear to the ruling powers in Athens: He would not
actively participate in Athenian politics. In fact, he repeatedly stated his cynical view
that he had yet to see anything worthwhile in politics for him to deal with.
During this period, Plato produced his next phase of written works, what is
known as his mature works. These works, including Meno, Symposium, and perhaps
the greatest of all his works, Republic, focused on merging philosophic thoughts and
ideals into the governance of men. If a true philosophical ruler could be in power,
Plato believed, then that ruler would be fair, just, and strong by the very virtue of
his abilities.
For the next 20 years, Plato continued to write and teach at his Academy, and it
seemed that he would happily continue to do so for the rest of his life. History had
one more role for Plato to play, however: a chance to finally apply his ideal govern-
ment in the real world.
Plato’s Return to Italy

In 367 B.C.E., Dionysius I died, leaving a young Dionysius II in charge of a fairly
large kingdom. Dionysius II’s uncle Dion, Plato’s friend and student, persuaded the
Plato’s Life 9
boy king to send for Plato to properly advise and teach him the ways of being a good
ruler. At the same time, Dion sent his old friend Plato a separate letter, trying to con-
vince his mentor that here was his chance to put into practice the great ideas from
his Republic. Now Plato could help realize the worthy goal of a philosopher-king.
Wary that such a young king would be difficult to teach, not to mention con-
cerned by the presence of internal and external political turmoil in Sicily, Plato had
little hope that such a plan would succeed. Still, Dion was his very good friend, and
little hope was better than none. So Plato traveled to Syracuse to mold the young
king, Dionysius II, before the influences of the court formed by the tyrannical
Dionysius I got their hooks into the boy. Unfortunately, the plan was a disaster from
almost the very beginning. The atmosphere of the king’s court was highly charged
with jealous courtiers who inherited the dead king’s suspicions of Dion. Four months
after Plato’s arrival, Dion was charged with conspiracy and exiled.
The young Dionysius II was jealous of Plato’s friendship with his uncle Dion.
Dionysius continually tried to supplant himself into a similar relationship with Plato,
thus replacing his uncle in Plato’s affections. Dionysius II would not, however, fully
commit himself to learning what Plato was trying to teach him. After two years,
Plato decided to opt out of the situation, citing the fact that Sicily was now at war
and the king would have no time to learn from him. Plato persuaded Dionysius II
to let him return to Athens, promising the king that he would return to Sicily with
Dion upon the conclusion of the war.
In 365 B.C.E., Plato, with his friend Dion, was back at the Academy and Plato
seemed content that his active life in politics was finally at an end. Happily ensconced
in this familiar environment, Plato spent the next four years teaching and writing.
But in 361 B.C.E., Dionysius II had an apparent change of heart and strongly
requested that Plato come back to Syracuse to resume his instruction. Plato initially
refused, not believing the king’s sincerity and also citing that the agreement was for
Plato to come back with Dion, not alone.
Dionysius II surrounded himself with philosophers in his efforts to convince
Plato that his intentions to learn were real. Among them was Archytas of Tarentum,
for whom Plato still had much respect and affection. Archytas’s promotion of Diony-
sius II, the fact that Dion was eventually granted permission to return, and Plato’s
Academy students’ affectionate urging for their teacher to succeed in this endeavor
finally convinced Plato in his decision to return to Sicily a third time.
If anything, this final trip to Syracuse was a worse disaster than the last journey.
Plato believed that he would have to start afresh with Dionysius’s teaching, which
the king immediately rankled against. After all, the proud king reasoned, he had
already had some instruction from Plato before, as well as from his collected group
of court philosophers.
Meanwhile, Dionysius II cut off his uncle Dion from his lands and property.
Dion was used to hold Plato hostage in the palace; every time Plato requested that
he be allowed to leave, Dionysius would ask him to just wait another season, prom-
ising that doing so would help Dion’s fortunes. Figuring he wasn’t going to leave
without Dionysius’s permission anyway, Plato agreed to wait. The tyrannical king
cut off Dion even more, by selling Dion’s property. Luckily, Plato managed to get
a message to Archytas, who visited with Dionysius and persuaded the king to let
Plato return home.
Furious at Plato’s treatment at the hands of his nephew, Dion began to raise sup-
port for a rebellion against the king, and he asked Plato to join him one last time.
This time, Plato refused and stayed firm on his decision. He had had enough of pol-
itics and, besides, he was an old man and had no business fighting in a war. Plato
returned to the Academy in 360 B.C.E. He was 67 years old.
The Final Years

Because not much was written by or about Plato in the remaining 13 years of his
life, not much is known. There are some clues to his life after his return to Athens,
however. Letters attributed to Plato indicate that, although he did not actively par-
ticipate in Dion’s attempt to oust Dionysius II, he still supported his friend and
wrote to encourage him and find out how things were proceeding. (Dion’s faction
eventually took over, though Dion himself was assassinated in the coup.) Indeed,
the Academy took an active advisory role in the Dionian government of Syracuse
until 354 B.C.E., when the pupils of the Academy withdrew their support.
During this time, Plato wrote again—writings that are classified as part of his
late period of works. His writing of this time has a distinctively introspective flair;
Plato was trying to fine-tune his thoughts on government and philosophy with spe-
cialized works as The Laws and Kritas.
Certainly, Plato interacted with his greatest pupil, Aristotle, during these years,
and passed on his knowledge and wisdom to his student as Socrates had done with
Plato.
Plato died at the age of 80 in 347 B.C.E. His school continued until C.E. 529,
when the Christian emperor Justinian closed it. The Academy’s 916-year lifespan
makes it the oldest learning institution in history.
Plato’s influence is still strongly felt in Western culture and government, as his
words began to ask the first important questions of who we are and how we can
interact with one another.
2 Plato’s Philosophy
“There is no such thing as a lovers’ oath.”

—Socrates, Symposium
Before examining some of Plato’s more influential works, it is necessary to take a

pause and examine some of the major ideas that he was trying to convey when he
wrote them just under 2,400 years ago. Having reviewed the major highlights of his
life in Chapter 1, it will be easier to see how the events of Plato’s life had a hand in
shaping the ideas that he created.
Plato’s works are often organized into three major groups, based on specific peri-
ods and events in his life. This is not the only way Plato’s works have been struc-
tured; scholars have tried to group his works into overarching themes. These themes
are derived from various scholars’ interpretations of Plato’s works.
For simplistic purposes, however, this book focuses on the temporal organiza-
tion of Plato’s writings, because they mark not only different periods in his life, but
also different motivations and understandings of the philosopher.
The Socratic Period

The first period of Plato’s writings is usually referred to as the Socratic Period—for
very obvious reasons.
Most scholars pinpoint this period of writing beginning in 399 B.C.E., shortly
after the execution of Socrates by the ruling government of Athens. There is some
debate as to whether Plato began writing slightly before Socrates’s death, but it is cer-
tain that the bulk of his writing occurred after the death of his teacher and mentor.
The end of this period of writing is traditionally identified as the point when
Plato traveled to southern Italy, in 390 B.C.E. There, he met the followers of Pythago-
ras and incorporated their worldview into his own.
The Meaning of Virtue

It is not too difficult to pick out one predominant theme of these early works: Plato,
at least in these early writings, was not communicating anything of his own beliefs
at this time—he was very carefully reproducing the ideas of his deceased teacher
Socrates. This is the primary reason why this set of works is known as the Socratic
dialogues. They are reflective of Socrates’s mind, not Plato’s.
That said, what was it that Socrates was trying to get across to his listeners that
Plato felt was so important to transcribe for his readers? Socrates, through his divine
vision, was very focused on examining the question of “What is Virtue?” Specifi-
cally, he narrowed his examination down to key elements that Socrates believed were
essential to virtue, such as courage, justice, temperance, and wisdom.
Through Plato’s dialogues, Socrates held conversations with various people, and
within those conversations he sought to determine the answers to these monumental
questions. He did not do it directly, however. Instead, Socrates would usually answer
one question with another, to help his interlocutors figure out the answers for them-
selves. For example, when faced with a question such as “How can I be courageous?”
Socrates would reply, “I really can’t tell you—do you know what courage is?”
This method of questioning every assumption is traditionally known as the
Socratic method, in honor of the man who utilized it so well. Actually, the technical
name for this is the elenctic method, which means an indirect approach to a given
proof.
The Socratic method works for just about every subject that can be taught,
thought it adapts better to subjects where creative thought rather than facts and fig-
ures can be used. It is still used in schools and halls of learning today.
When Socrates employed it in these dialogues, he continued the cycle of ques-
tion and reply over and over, all the while challenging the interlocutor’s answers.
If someone gave him his personal definition of courage, Socrates would turn
right around and point out that this definition was not consistent with other beliefs
the interlocutor held. Thus, the interlocutor would be forced to refine his defini-
tion and provide another answer, which Socrates would again challenge, thus pre-
cipitating another re-definition.
All of this elenctic questioning was done in the hopes that an answer that both
parties would agree upon would arise. In actuality, within Socrates’s dialogues, the
answer was never truly reached.
This was all right with Socrates, who never believed that the final answer would
truly be attained. It was the process of questioning and dialogue that helped people
to grow philosophically—not the declaration of a final “solution.” This is the heart
Plato’s Philosophy 13
of the reason why Socrates never wrote down any of his own dialogues: conversing
actively was the only real way of getting closer to what was true.
Plato clearly did not buy into this argument, as the very presence of Socrates’s
dialogues in written form would suggest. Toward the end of this period of writing,
Plato was starting to pull away from an exact repetition of Socrates’s thoughts; he
was beginning to insert his own critiques of Socrates’s ideas within the dialogues.
After his return from Sicily, Plato found his own voice and built the reasons for
his own ideas and contemplations.
Writings of the Socratic Period

Plato’s devotion to the teachings of his master serves us well, because we get a first-
hand glimpse into the mind of one of the world’s greatest philosophers.
Eleven dialogues are attributed to this period:
n Laches: Also known as Courage, this dialogue allows Socrates to explore the
concepts of courage versus cowardice.
n Charmides: Also known as Temperance, this work explores the Socratic con-
cept of rationality using the virtue of temperance as a guide.
n Euthyphro: A brief dialogue that focuses on the virtue of holiness, this dia-
logue has Socrates posing as an ignorant student to expose the ignorance of
a supposed master.
n Lysis: A somewhat unfocused dialogue, this work briefly examines notions of
identity, harmony, and good and evil.
n Protagoras: A dialogue that examines a key question of Socrates: Can virtue
be taught and, more importantly, can it be learned?
n Hippias Minor: The question of whether a truthful person and a liar are actu-
ally one and the same is examined in this dialogue.
n Ion: Plato relates Socrates investigating the differences between inspiration
and knowledge, using a Homeric poet as an example.
n Hippias Major: This dialogue explores the meaning of what is beautiful. This
work, it should be noted, has been questioned as an actual work of Plato,
though tradition attributes it to him from this period.
n Apology: A critical dialogue on the trial and execution of Socrates. Apology

derives from apologia, which is Greek for “defense,” not “sorry.”
n Crito: Socrates, through Plato, attempts to determine right and wrong through
reason, rather than from outside influences, such as society.
n Gorgias: This dialogue queries the nature of justice and explores the imple-
mentation of power as a voyage to self-worth.
The Mature Period

After the return from his first voyage to Sicily and the formation of his Academy
outside Athens, Plato settled into a comfortable life of teaching and writing that
lasted for many years.
During this time, Plato began to pull away from the shadow of his teacher, in
terms of topics and thought. But he did not leave the Socratic dialogue as a method
of conveying his points. The dialogues were his only form of writing during his life.
The works from the Socratic period examine the ideas of Socrates—primarily
the search for virtue. Although Plato never forgot the teachings of his mentor, he
moved on to other explorations of the human mind, incorporating much of what
he learned while abroad in Sicily.
Separating Form from Function

By the time he returned from Sicily and established his own Academy, Plato had
been strongly influenced by the followers of Pythagoras he met in the distant coun-
try. His learning in the field of pure mathematics led him to examine the notions
of certain universal constants in the universe.
Plato’s line of thinking went something like this: Instead of virtue being some-
thing that was in a person—something that he possessed and somehow owned—
virtue was instead a universal Form that existed whether someone exhibited it or
not. These Forms, such as Justice, Virtue, Beauty, and Knowledge, were not treated
as individual characteristics of human beings, but as Forms that existed in the uni-
verse regardless of the presence of humans. The examination of these Forms in this
period is the basis for Plato’s Theory of Forms.
It should be stated that nowhere in his writings did Plato say, “This is my The-
ory of Forms.” This is an idea that later philosophers and historians named after
picking out the common themes in these dialogues.
Plato examined other metaphysical concepts at this time in his life. In Phaedo,
he took the idea of Forms and applied it to the human soul, which Plato argued was
immortal, because it, too, was another Form.
Plato also employed this outlook on more mundane objects around him. He could
look at a chair and say, “That is a chair.” But he knew that someone else could say,
“That is a stool” and be just as accurate, at least in the speaker’s own point of view.
The imperfection of human language, Plato reasoned, could be bypassed by
more-perfect mathematical representations of an object. Only a pure mathematical
description of such objects would be true; any other description would be a mere
reflection of the object.
If human characteristics such as justice and knowledge could be described as
Forms, then these concepts could easily be applied to society as a whole. This line
of reasoning is what led Plato down the path toward applying metaphysical con-
cepts to government, which was, to Plato, ultimately responsible for guiding the
society it ruled.
This idea culminated in his Republic, which is often regarded as Plato’s greatest
work. It begins with a Socratic conversation about the nature of justice, then moves
on to a discussion on the virtues of justice, wisdom, courage, and temperance as
they appear both in human beings and in society.
In his dialogues Symposium and Phaedrus, Plato also examined how the concept
of romance and love works. These dialogues are referred to as erotic, though not in
the modern sense of the word. Here, erotic refers to the concept of Eros, a term that
is Greek for love.
To Plato, Love (another Form) was be the source of all that was good in the
universe—the primary motivator for humans to come together and take care of one
another. He thought that Eros also leads people to evil and tyranny if human resist-
ance causes it to become diseased.
Plato was clearly at the height of his prowess during this time; he was taking on
many issues and examining them against his metaphysical ideals. As he matured, he
started to focus more and more on philosophy’s role in government—a concept that
led him back to Sicily two more times.
Writings of the Mature Period

The main thrust of these writings is the examination of various human and socie-
tal concepts with the use of metaphysical ideas rather than through more allegori-
cal concepts. The following ten dialogues are attributed to this period:
n Meno: In this work, Plato uses mathematical ideas to explore the question
“What is Virtue?”
n Cratylus: Although some argue this dialogue represents the debate between
conventionalism and naturalism in the theory of meaning, others have argued
that this work represents an attack on the use of etymology (the study of the
history of words) in philosophy.
n Euthydemus: A look at what constitutes philosophy is the central theme of
this dialogue.
n Menexenus: Another work whose authorship is in doubt, Plato’s student Aris-
totle attributes this rhetorical examination of patriotism to his teacher.
n Symposium: Plato explores the inner workings of romance and love in this work.
n Phaedo: A look at the connection between death, life, and philosophy as Plato
writes a eulogy for Socrates.
n Republic: Regarded as the greatest work of Plato, it represents Plato’s search
for the meaning of Justice and how a society should be governed.
n Phaedrus: An erotic dialogue much like the Symposium, this work advances
the idea that life without the search for self-knowledge is not worth living.
n Parmenides: This work has much discussion surrounding it, because its themes
are not implicitly clear. Plato does give much examination to his own Theory
of Forms.
n Theatetus: Plato examines the question “What is Knowledge?” in this dialogue.
The Late Period

After Plato returned from Sicily on his second and third visits, he began another
period of writing that lasted for the rest of his life.
In this, the late period of his life, Plato became more and more introspective
about his prior works, trying to expound on them and fine-tune them to meet
his most overriding goal: the literal application of his ideal government of the
philosopher-king.
This mission was the impetus for the next two trips Plato would take to the Sicil-
ian city of Syracuse, as he strove to teach the young Dionysius II how to properly
apply philosophical thought to the rule of men. This mission ultimately failed, but
Plato still used his themes of form and idea and built upon the ideals first presented
in such works as his Republic.
Continuing the Conversation

A novice might look at the writings of this period as a form of second-guessing upon
the part of Plato, because he seems to take a step back and start critically examin-
ing everything he ever said. This analysis would be incomplete, of course. Though
Plato had grown beyond his master’s teachings, like Socrates he was still practicing
the elenctic method, though on a much grander scale.
For Plato, no idea he or anyone else could come up with would be the Final
Answer, so self-examination was crucial to the refinement of his ideas expressed dur-
ing his lifetime.
This then, marked the central thrust of Plato’s mature period: a refinement of
his earlier ideas, primarily focused on his efforts in applying philosophy to govern-
ing societies.
He also developed the idea that knowledge of things could be defined by two stages:
collection and division. First, he argued, general knowledge about a thing (a set
of animals, for example) can be collected, and then the specifics about the individ-
ual animals can be divided into smaller and less-broad categories: mammals over here,
reptiles over there; then mammals into primates, ruminates, marsupials, and so on.
This concept of division of knowledge into smaller, discrete categories is some-
thing that is practiced a great deal in modern times, and it is a central tenet of most
scientific classifications. But it is not something a lot of people agree with. Plato’s
own student Aristotle challenged this notion of division in his Parts of Animals.
This example of division is reflective of what Plato was trying to achieve in all
the works in this part of his life: the real application of his metaphysical concepts
to everyday life. To Plato, this was the important thing, and he tended to focus on
the higher-priority issues, which, for him, centered around the governance of society.
Ultimately, Plato’s work on this theme remained unfinished, leaving his students
and the rest of us to continue the conversations as they move ever closer to the final
answer.
Writings of the Mature Period

The first dialogues Plato wrote in this period were actually in between his second
and third trips to Sicily, after he left that country in disappointment, having failed
in his attempts to teach Dionysius. Plato remained at the Academy for about four
years and used this time to teach and produce two dialogues.
n Sophistes: This dialogue examines the concept of falsity and nonbeing.

n Politicus: Also known as The Statesman, this work describes the perfect leader
as one who is the personification of the Rule of Life.
After his final return from Sicilian political intrigues, Plato settled down at the
Academy for the remainder of his life. In this period, he continued to use the Socratic
framework for his dialogues, but now in such a way that the ideas expressed in his
works could be easily drawn upon and applied to practical life—particularly gov-
ernment. Works that he wrote during this period are the following:
n Philebus: Advocacy of intellectual activity over physical pleasure is the theme

of this work.
n Timaeus: Plato uses the most up-to-date concepts of metaphysics to examine
the origins of the universe and relate them to the political structure of Mankind.
n Critias: A companion to Timaeus, Plato continues tying the forces of Nature
to the conflicts of Man, using fabled Atlantis as an example.
n The Laws: Plato’s longest work, which remained unfinished at his death, this
work attempted to codify, once and for all, the blueprints for a perfectly gov-
erned society.
Other Works
As seen in the prior summaries, some works attributed to Plato are disputed, because
they don’t quite seem to match what scholars believe Plato would be thinking. As
Plato defined the works of his teacher Socrates, so too would Plato’s student Aris-
totle help to define Plato’s works. Some dialogues are attributed to Plato based solely
on the word and writings of Aristotle, which, for many, is good enough.
There are other works, of course, of which we are not so sure. There are seven
letters that Plato reportedly wrote to various companions during his life. These letters,
which were written in a more narrative style, are some of the main sources we have
of Plato’s life. Not all the letters are classified as genuine, though Letter 7 is often
held as a valid source of this biographical information.
Plato’s works, which have remained important to this day, have helped to shape,
positively or negatively, the workings of philosophy and government for thousands
of years. In the next chapters of this book, three of his most important works are
examined in greater detail: Apology, Meno, and Republic.
3 Apology
“Not much time will be gained, O Athenians,

in return for the evil name which you will get
from the detractors of the city, who will say
that you killed Socrates, a wise man. . . .”
—Socrates, Apology
It is with no small irony that the greatest of Plato’s works is actually a recollection
of the words of his teacher and mentor Socrates. This chapter examines the reasons
why Plato wrote Apology and how it gives the most intimate portrait of one of the
world’s greatest philosophers.
Perspective on Apology
In a collection of Plato’s work, Apology is typically the first dialogue found. It is,
without doubt, one of the most well-known works of Plato, even though it’s really
the only work that reveals nothing of Plato’s thoughts. Apology is, in many respects,
the only true Socratic dialogue in existence. Although Plato uses dialogue as a frame-
work for all his works, and even uses Socrates as a character in many of his works,
this is the only work that truly reflects the words of Socrates.
There are only two works that detail the events at the trial of Socrates in 399
B.C.E.: Apology, of course, and Xenophon’s Memorabilia. Xenophon was an acquain-
tance of Socrates who wanted to put something on record about his friend’s trial.
Unfortunately, Xenophon, by his own admission, was not actually at the trial, so
the record he leaves us is at best incomplete.
Plato, however, was at the trial—something Socrates himself confirms in the dia-
logue. And as a student of Socrates, Plato endeavored to keep as close to an accu-
rate account as possible. The circumstances that brought Socrates to this fateful
event (detailed in Chapter 1 of this book), are full of intrigue that we can clearly
recognize 2,400 years later.
After the overthrow of the puppet government, known as the Thirty Tyrants, in
403 B.C.E., the new Athenian Assembly clearly had an axe to grind on the indigni-
ties suffered at the hands of the Tyrants and their masters, the Spartans. Care had
to be taken, however, because the Spartans were still officially in charge of the con-
quered Athenians; too much rebellion would break the tolerance of Sparta and lead
to harsh punishments for Athens. So, any revenge that Athens’s new government
would be able to take on the former dictators would have to be carefully measured.
It also didn’t help that Socrates’s ideal of virtue centered around a noble’s
lifestyle—something that did not sit well with a democratic body. They well remem-
bered Socrates’s association with the Thirty Tyrants, too. Socrates would become
the victim of an unfortunate association. Though he adamantly refused to be actively
involved in any politics, his teachings and words were apparently antidemocratic
enough to warrant a sort of social adoption by the Thirty. In other words, they liked
his stuff and used it to justify some of their actions.
Socrates’s ongoing teaching of the young men of Athens about the meaning of
virtue was not a problem for the ruling party, because this was a practice undertaken
by many teachers in Athens—a class of educators known as Sophists. But although
Sophists generally taught as their livelihood, Socrates disdained such motives and
strove to teach young Athenian men based on divine visions that told him such work
was holy and just.
These visions, which Socrates proclaimed came directly from the goddess Athena,
were used as his carte blanche justification to relentlessly query the Athenian gen-
try. But Socrates would soon anger too many citizens for a divine rationale to pro-
tect him.
That, ultimately, was the last straw. The most conservative members of the
Assembly were also very religious and saw anyone who had divine messages outside
of the worship of Athena and the rest of the pantheon of Greek gods as a moral out-
rage. Led by Meletus, who was assisted by Anytus and Lycon, a movement soon
swept the ruling class of Athens to call for a halt to Socrates’s activities.
This faction of the Assembly also fed their own fears to the general public, who
remembered how Socrates was associated with the Thirty, until finally there was an
outcry to arrest Socrates. In 399 B.C.E., Socrates was arrested and charged with a
contradictory set of offenses: corruption of youth, participating in odd religious
practices, introducing new gods, and atheism.
The Athenian system of justice, if it can be called that, was an odd mixture of
vigilantism and civil proceedings. Basically, if someone was charged with a crime,
he would be tried before a jury of Athenian men. There was no judge per se, only
representatives of a tribunal/ruling committee of the Assembly, known as the
Archons. There were nine Archons, six of whom functioned as judges and three of
Apology 21
whom rotated as the role of King on an annual basis. When one of these three held
the position of King, his duties were actually rather limited—his primary responsi-
bilities were as religious functionaries, keeping up with the religious duties held by
the kings of old.
When a trial was held, it was presided over by one of these Archons. Because
Socrates was charged with religious crimes, his trial was held in the court of King
Archon. The government did not provide prosecutors. Charges were only made by
private citizens if they actually cared that someone did something wrong. (To pre-
vent abuse of the system, if an indicted person was found not guilty, his accuser
would be forced to pay 1,000 drachmas in damages.) Juries were not selected by the
government; the members of the jury, all men of age, would simply show up for any
given trial. Tradition holds that 501 jurors showed up for Socrates’s trial.
Because he brought the charges, Meletus would be responsible for prosecuting
Socrates. Socrates’s students came to the trial to defend their teacher, but according
to Xenophon’s account, they were shouted down by the jurors, who apparently only
wanted to hear from Socrates. And thus, we have Socrates standing before 501 jurors,
his accusers, and a figurehead judge in a free-for-all debate where his life hung in
the balance. Socrates did not appear to be intimidated by all this; the first words out
of his mouth to the jury positively reeked of sarcasm and irony.
Opening Statements, Cross Exam,

and Closing Arguments
From what we can glean from Apology, Socrates did not seem to be the kind of per-
son who suffered fools gladly. Indeed, from his opening statement to the jury, it
appears he was bothered by the whole notion of this trial; his first words are insult-
ing to the whole gathering:
How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I
cannot tell; but I know that their persuasive words almost made me forget who
I was—such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of
truth.
Socrates is sarcastically feigning confusion, having been “dazzled” by the bril-

liant arguments of the prosecution up to this moment. This first statement sets the
tone for almost the entirety of Socrates’s statements in Apology: He does not want
to acknowledge any valid purpose for this trial, nor will he acknowledge the seri-
ousness of it.
This makes sense, because Socrates has two strong reasons for not believing in
the validity of this trial. First, to him, this is a politically motivated event and, all
throughout his teachings, Socrates has repeatedly declared himself above and beyond
such matters. Second, his motivation for exploring the meaning of virtue amongst
the men of Athens was divinely inspired—such a message likely made him fall
immune to the concerns of his fellow man.
Of course, Socrates is not completely removed from these proceedings. At the
very end of this passage, he fires off a direct rebuttal at his accusers—essentially call-
ing them liars. Socrates goes on to further comment on another accusation: the pros-
ecutors have already told the jury to be wary of Socrates’s eloquence, lest they be
persuaded away from the “truth.” Socrates scoffs at this notion by making a self-
effacing comment:
They ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be
detected as soon as I opened my lips and displayed my deficiency; they certainly
did appear to be most shameless in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence
they mean the force of truth; for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent.
Again, mockingly, Socrates is attempting to lay low his accusers’ assertions that
he could talk his way out of anything. Socrates tells the jury that he merely relies
on the truth to do his talking for him. Indeed, Socrates goes on to state that much
of what he is about to say is about to be made up on the spot. Xenophon, the his-
torian who also recorded Socrates’s trial, confirms that Socrates went to the trial
unprepared.
So why is Plato’s version so eloquently done? Some scholars have speculated that
Plato was writing Socrates as Plato would have said it. Socrates no doubt said the
things attributed to him in Apology, but it is possible that Plato may have cleaned
up the language a bit. This is a common transcriber’s device. Even modern jour-
nalists tend to eliminate ums and ers from an interviewee’s speech as they write down
a quoted statement.
Socrates seems intent on setting the ground rules for this legal confrontation.
He has stated that his accusers are liars, that his speech is only as eloquent as the
truth behind it, and that he will be making an unprepared defense statement. He
then concludes this rule-setting phase with a statement that the jury will have to
tolerate that he will be speaking to them in his accustomed manner, not theirs.
Socrates claims ignorance at legal proceedings as his reason for this, but this
is Socrates jockeying for conversational position, pure and simple.
After he gets his opening remarks out of the way, Socrates begins to examine the
charges laid against him. He indicates that he is going to divide the charges up into
two major subsets. The first will comprise old accusations and innuendo—all the
events that have led him to receive a poor reputation. After he dispels these notions,
Socrates will then move on to the actual charges brought up against him at this par-
ticular trial.
Apology 23
Guilt by Reputation
A majority of Socrates’s defense statement is taken up with the analysis and critique
of the various factors that Socrates believes portrayed him in a bad way to the Athen-
ian rulers and citizens. Clearly, he feels that by breaking down these old rumors and
misunderstandings and disproving them one by one, he will start to remove credi-
bility from the prosecutors’ current arguments. This is a fairly strong strategy, espe-
cially since Socrates will interweave the charges of the present-day trial in with the
explanations of why he thinks this all came about.
Socrates recognizes that much of his bad reputation has been with him for a very
long time—indeed, since some of the jury at the trial were children. Socrates asserts
that he has attained the reputation of being an atheist, a paid teacher of philoso-
phers (known as a Sophist), and a common philosopher. This latter assertion may
seem an odd label to duck. After all, Socrates was a philosopher, at least by our stan-
dards. Actually, what Socrates was trying to avoid was being lumped in with the
philosophers of his day, those “who speculated about the heaven above, and searched
into the earth beneath, and made the worse appear the better cause.” These men of
thought, from whom Socrates strongly disassociated himself, were natural philoso-
phers who tried to deduce the nature of the universe. From our perspective, these
philosophers are known as pre-Socratic.
Pre-Socratic philosophers tended to apply their theories about the universe when-
ever they could. To Socrates (and indeed, the ruling powers of Athens), at best these
philosophers were amusing hucksters trying to find gold in lead. At worst, they were
heretics to be executed. So, in terms of principle and practicality, Socrates was right
in separating himself from this group.
Pre-Socratic philosophers, at least the more popular ones, were also commonly
employed as teachers of young men called Sophists, using their knowledge to teach
through rhetoric and persuasion. Sophists were generally regarded with respect,
because they performed a needed function in Athenian society. But the basis of one
of the charges against Socrates was that he exerted undue influence on the youth of
Athens—something that, if he were a Sophist, would be easy to do.
Socrates emphatically denied being a natural philosopher or a Sophist. He did
so by reminding those in the jury to recall how he conversed with people in the past.
If they did, they would remember that Socrates never used persuasive methods to
get his points across. He always asked questions, and that’s all he did. Never were
any of these questions regarding natural phenomena, nor did they try to lead into
some sort of political agenda. To Socrates, they were questions that were a means to
an end, not the end itself.
Besides being misrepresented as a teacher, Socrates was also catching a bad
reputation from a play written by contemporary playwright Aristophanes called
The Clouds. In The Clouds is a character named Socrates, who is depicted as float-
ing up in the clouds with all the other nonsensical philosophers. Several historians
have conjectured that Aristophanes meant no evil by this good-natured jibe, and
that Socrates himself may have even thought it was humorous. But by the time of
his trial, clearly Socrates thought what was once a funny send-up had actually
become a part of the social perception of how he really behaved: running about
spouting nonsense to anyone who would listen.
Socrates brings up the play and immediately rejects the notion of being anything
like this character. He also starts sharing his opinion of contemporary Sophists:
As little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and take money;
that is no more true than the other. Although, if a man is able to teach, I honor
him for being paid. There is Gorgias of Leontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and
Hippias of Elis, who go the round of the cities, and are able to persuade the
young men to leave their own citizens, by whom they might be taught for noth-
ing, and come to them, whom they not only pay, but are thankful if they may
be allowed to pay them.
At first glance, this seems a praise for the Sophists, but from Socrates it is actu-
ally thinly veiled sarcasm, because he thinks this whole practice is rather silly. To
demonstrate this, he relates a tale that compares such teachers of young men to
breeders of animals.
I met a man who has spent a world of money on the Sophists, Callias the son of
Hipponicus, and knowing that he had sons, I asked him: “Callias,” I said, “if
your two sons were foals or calves, there would be no difficulty in finding some-
one to put over them; we should hire a trainer of horses or a farmer probably
who would improve and perfect them in their own proper virtue and excellence;
but as they are human beings, whom are you thinking of placing over them? Is
there anyone who understands human and political virtue? You must have
thought about this as you have sons; is there anyone?”
There is a key question in this passage that reveals what Socrates thinks about
Sophists and philosophers: “Is there anyone who understands human and political
virtue?” The unspoken answer, at least from Socrates’s point of view, is that there
isn’t anyone he’s discovered yet.
Having established to his satisfaction sufficient proof that he is not a Sophist,
nor a natural philosopher, Socrates now, finally, turns to explaining just exactly what
he is and what he has been doing. After first warning the audience that what he has
to say will be somewhat unsettling, he launches into what has been described as the
core defense of Apology:
Apology 25
Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom
which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, such wisdom as is
attainable by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am wise;
whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which
I may fail to describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have,
speaks falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men of Athens, I
must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant.
For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is
worthy of credit, and will tell you about my wisdom—whether I have any, and
of what sort—and that witness shall be the god of Delphi.
Examining this passage in sections will reveal the heart of Socrates’s justification.
Initially, Socrates describes a “certain sort of wisdom” that he possesses. It should be
noted that he does not describe it as human wisdom. He then goes on to say that
the wisdom he possesses is only that which can be achieved by a human being, and
no more.
Socrates believes that the wisdom of the Sophists and philosophers he was just
referring to is “superhuman”—but this is not necessarily a compliment. Scholars of
Socrates believe that in the original Greek, Socrates actually meant that the Sophists,
if they were truly wise, would have had to have been more than human. Because,
in Socrates’s worldview, true wisdom cannot come from the mind of man—and
Socrates emphatically denies that the wisdom he possesses comes from himself.
After settling down the jury one more time (one wonders just how upset and
raucous the atmosphere of the trial was at this point, that Plato felt is necessary to
include such admonitions in the Socratic dialogue), Socrates reveals the real source
for his wisdom, and the best witness for his defense: the god of Delphi, known to
most English speakers as Apollo, the Greek god of the sun.
Throughout Apology, Socrates refers to god, or his god, and it should be noted
that this god is indeed Apollo, not the monotheistic God of the Judaic, Christian,
or Muslim faiths. Apollo was not any more important than any of the other gods
of the Greek pantheon, but he was the patron god of Delphi, a very sacred place in
Greek culture. It was at Delphi that the Oracle resided—a high priestess who would
be possessed by Apollo and speak wisdom to any petitioners who approached the
Oracle with sufficient penitence and offering. By directly referring to Apollo in this
manner, Socrates is giving his statement a lot of weight, since Delphi’s prominence
in Greek culture was second only to that of Olympia’s. He is also foreshadowing the
rest of his tale, because the Oracle will be a prominent character in why he has taken
on the role of inquisitor.
Socrates goes on to relate the tale of an old friend, Chaerephon, now deceased,
who once went to the Oracle and asked if there was anyone wiser than Socrates. The
Oracle, overcome in the trance of Apollo, replied to Chaerephon “that there was no
man wiser.” When Socrates was told this by Chaerephon, he was not exactly com-
fortable with the answer, since Socrates always maintained that he never held any
wisdom of any sort.
When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean? and what
is the interpretation of this riddle? for I know that I have no wisdom, small or
great. What can he mean when he says that I am the wisest of men? And yet he
is a god and cannot lie; that would be against his nature. After a long consider-
ation, I at last thought of a method of trying the question. I reflected that if I
could only find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the god with a refu-
tation in my hand. I should say to him, “Here is a man who is wiser than I am;
but you said that I was the wisest.”
So, in an effort to prove the god of the Oracle wrong, Socrates decided to go out
and seek the wisest men in Athenian society and determine, through his typical
method of questioning, if there was indeed anyone who was wiser than he. Unfor-
tunately, Socrates would repeatedly find when he spoke to politicians and other
learned men, that they were no wiser than he was and, to a man, they were all less
wise than Socrates himself. And, to Socrates’s rather naïve shock, these powerful
men were not too happy at being proved to be less wise than anyone else. He found
this to be true not only of the politicians and teachers but also of the artisans and
poets he questioned.
So, he admits to the jury, in the process of confirming what seems to be a divine
message from the gods, that he is forced to be in the position of creating enemies
out of a lot of well-connected men in Athens. This, he argues, is a big source of the
bad reputation that has hung over him for so long—the enmity of the so-called wise
men he called out through his years of questioning. Socrates lays this out in a clos-
ing statement on the “old” accusations:
This investigation has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most
dangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies, and I am called
wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which I
find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of Athens, that God only is wise;
and in this oracle he means to say that the wisdom of men is little or nothing;
he is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name as an illustration, as if
he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is
in truth worth nothing.
Basically, Socrates is saying that, although he could never prove the Oracle wrong,
he came to the conclusion that no man is wiser than any other man. Apollo, through
his priestess, was only using Socrates as an example of someone who is wise when
Apology 27
he admits he knows nothing. Socrates believes this is the primary reason why his
present-day accusers have come to him with these new charges. All three of them—
Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon—represent some faction of society that Socrates has
found “lacking” in wisdom during his search for it. With this foundation laid before
the jury, Socrates now turns his attention to the second set of charges: the actual
indictments brought to this trial.
Taking on the Accusers

When Socrates addresses the charges currently brought forth by his accusers, he opts
to take on the accusers themselves in a direct cross-examination of Meletus, whom
Socrates targets as the originator of this current evil against him.
First off, in what seems to be a pattern with Socrates, he mockingly opens the
exchange with a recap of the charges currently leveled against him:
I have said enough in my defense against the first class of my accusers; I turn to
the second class, who are headed by Meletus, that good and patriotic man, as he
calls himself. And now I will try to defend myself against them: these new accus-
ers must also have their affidavit read.
What do they say? Something of this sort: That Socrates is a doer of evil, and
corrupter of the youth, and he does not believe in the gods of the state, and has
other new divinities of his own. That is the sort of charge; and now let us exam-
ine the particular counts.
Referring to Meletus as a “good and patriotic man” is unmitigated sarcasm,

because Socrates quickly adds that this is an epithet that Meletus himself uses, not
Socrates. Clearly Socrates is still upset that he should be bothered with any of this,
and he takes every chance he can to sting his accusers with such sarcasm.
Socrates then goes on to read the charges as he interprets them, the first of which
is that he is a “doer of evil, and corrupter of the youth.” Having already examined
these points in the first part of his defense, Socrates decides to elaborate on them
further in a direct confrontation with Meletus, first challenging Meletus’s assertion
that he is a corrupting influence on the youth of Athens:
[Socrates] He says that I am a doer of evil, who corrupt the youth; but I say, O
men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, and the evil is that he makes a joke
of a serious matter, and is too ready at bringing other men to trial from a pretended
zeal and interest about matters in which he really never had the smallest interest.
And the truth of this I will endeavor to prove. Come hither, Meletus, and let me
ask a question of you. You think a great deal about the improvement of youth?
[Meletus] Yes, I do.

[Socrates] Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must know, as
you have taken the pains to discover their corrupter, and are citing and accusing
me before them. Speak, then, and tell the judges who their improver is. Observe,
Meletus, that you are silent, and have nothing to say. But is not this rather dis-
graceful, and a very considerable proof of what I was saying, that you have no
interest in the matter? Speak up, friend, and tell us who their improver is.
[Meletus] The laws.
[Socrates] But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know who the
person is, who, in the first place, knows the laws.
[Meletus] The judges, Socrates, who are present in court.
[Socrates] What do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to instruct and
improve youth?
[Meletus] Certainly they are.
[Socrates] What, all of them, or some only and not others?
[Meletus] All of them.
[Socrates] By the goddess [Hera], that is good news! There are plenty of
improvers, then. And what do you say of the audience, do they improve them?
[Meletus] Yes, they do.
[Socrates] And the senators?
[Meletus] Yes, the senators improve them.
[Socrates] But perhaps the members of the citizen assembly corrupt them? —or
do they too improve them?
[Meletus] They improve them.
[Socrates] Then every Athenian improves and elevates them; all with the excep-
tion of myself; and I alone am their corrupter? Is that what you affirm?
[Meletus] That is what I stoutly affirm.
[Socrates] I am very unfortunate if that is true. But suppose I ask you a ques-
tion: Would you say that this also holds true in the case of horses? Does one man
do them harm and all the world good? Is not the exact opposite of this true? One
man is able to do them good, or at least not many; —the trainer of horses, that
is to say, does them good, and others who have to do with them rather injure
them? Is not that true, Meletus, of horses, or any other animals?
Apology 29
[Meletus] Yes, certainly.

[Socrates] Whether you and Anytus say yes or no, that is no matter. Happy
indeed would be the condition of youth if they had one corrupter only, and all
the rest of the world were their improvers. And you, Meletus, have sufficiently
shown that you never had a thought about the young: your carelessness is seen
in your not caring about matters spoken of in this very indictment.
In this exchange, which is fairly straightforward, Socrates backs Meletus into a

corner when he questions him on who in Athens is an improver of youth, since
Meletus is such an expert on who is a corrupting influence. Unwilling to lay any
accusations on other members of Athenian society, Meletus falls into the trap and
blithely adds all the members of Athens’s citizenry to the list of improvers of youth.
Once he gets Meletus to make the rather sweeping assertion that only Socrates,
in all of Athens, is a corrupting influence on Athens’s youth, Socrates uses the anal-
ogy of the horse trainer to drive home his point. Not everyone, Socrates states, can
be a horse trainer—just a select few with the right expertise. So making the state-
ment that all of Athenian society was a positive influence on the youth of the city-
state runs very counter to this commonly observed phenomenon.
Essentially, Socrates catches Meletus in a lie, because the accuser really doesn’t
know who represents the real improvers of youth in Athens. He reveals that he does
not know and only seems to care about convicting Socrates. At this point, if Mele-
tus had been on his toes, he might have noted the fact that Socrates answered his
own question (“Whether you and Anytus say yes or no, that is no matter”), which
is inconsistent with Socrates’s statements that his only mission is to ask questions
on behalf of Apollo. But Socrates has already moved on to his next set of questions—
whether he was willingly corrupting anyone at all:
[Socrates] And now, Meletus, I must ask you another question: Which is better,
to live among bad citizens, or among good ones? Answer, friend, I say; for that
is a question which may be easily answered. Do not the good do their neighbors
good, and the bad do them evil?
[Meletus] Certainly.
[Socrates] And is there anyone who would rather be injured than benefited by
those who live with him? Answer, my good friend; the law requires you to
answer—does anyone like to be injured?
[Meletus] Certainly not.
[Socrates] And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating the youth,
do you allege that I corrupt them intentionally or unintentionally?
[Meletus] Intentionally, I say.

[Socrates] But you have just admitted that the good do their neighbors good,
and the evil do them evil. Now is that a truth which your superior wisdom has
recognized thus early in life, and am I, at my age, in such darkness and igno-
rance as not to know that if a man with whom I have to live is corrupted by me,
I am very likely to be harmed by him, and yet I corrupt him, and intentionally,
too; —that is what you are saying, and of that you will never persuade me or any
other human being. But either I do not corrupt them, or I corrupt them unin-
tentionally, so that on either view of the case you lie. If my offense is uninten-
tional, the law has no cognizance of unintentional offences: you ought to have
taken me privately, and warned and admonished me; for if I had been better
advised, I should have left off doing what I only did unintentionally—no doubt
I should; whereas you hated to converse with me or teach me, but you indicted
me in this court, which is a place not of instruction, but of punishment.
I have shown, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus has no care at all, great
or small, about the matter.
This exchange contains a core piece of Socrates’s philosophy regarding what is

right and what is wrong, a weapon he uses against Meletus that perhaps goes over
the head of his accuser and even the jury surrounding him.
Socrates firmly believes that no one can intentionally do any wrong. In his view,
when someone performs an action, they are always doing good—at least for them.
If a man helps a stranger, he is doing good (and both he and the stranger believe
so). If a man kills a stranger then, while the stranger might argue otherwise, he is
still doing good, from his standpoint. This is a rather amoral sounding argument,
which Socrates uses in other dialogues. Essentially Socrates believes that no one is
really wise enough to know what is truly good or evil, so to have someone apply
that label to him is ludicrous.
So, Socrates takes this line of questioning to Meletus, getting him to first admit
that good people do good things and evil people do evil things, then admit that no
one would ever desire to be hurt intentionally. If both of these suppositions are true,
Socrates asserts, then why would he, Socrates, ever knowingly corrupt the young?
If he did, then sooner or later these corrupted youth were going to turn around and
harm him someday.
With that line of thought, Socrates continues to say that either he is not cor-
rupting the young or he is doing so accidentally. If the former is true, then obvi-
ously there is no need for this trial. If the latter is the case, then Socrates reasons that
he should have been taken aside by Meletus and his fellow accusers and informed
of the tragic mistake he was making instead of hauled into court. (In Athenian law,
ignorance of the law was a valid defense.)
Apology 31
Socrates actually uses this argument to accuse Meletus of neglecting his respon-
sibility to the youth of Athens and point out to the jury once again that Meletus
really does not care about the Athenian youth—he’s just out to condemn Socrates.
After making this point, Socrates shifts arguments to another of the charges: that
he is accused of teaching about false gods not worshipped by the citizens of Athens.
Initially, Socrates interrogates Meletus on the exact nature of the charges against him.
[Socrates] But still I should like to know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to cor-
rupt the young. I suppose you mean, as I infer from your indictment, that I teach
them not to acknowledge the gods which the state acknowledges, but some other
new divinities or spiritual agencies in their stead. These are the lessons which
corrupt the youth, as you say.
[Meletus] Yes, that I say emphatically.
[Socrates] Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell me and the
court, in somewhat plainer terms, what you mean! [F]or I do not as yet under-
stand whether you affirm that I teach others to acknowledge some gods, and
therefore do believe in gods and am not an entire atheist—this you do not lay
to my charge; but only that they are not the same gods which the city
recognizes—the charge is that they are different gods. Or, do you mean to say
that I am an atheist simply, and a teacher of atheism?
[Meletus] I mean the latter—that you are a complete atheist.
[Socrates] That is an extraordinary statement, Meletus. Why do you say that?
Do you mean that I do not believe in the godhead of the sun or moon, which is
the common creed of all men?
[Meletus] I assure you, judges, that he does not believe in them; for he says that
the sun is stone, and the moon earth.
This last accusation from Meletus implies that Socrates is no different than any
other natural philosopher living during those times. In their varied views of the uni-
verse, this is certainly a statement that could apply to them. Socrates has already dis-
associated himself from the pre-Socratic thinkers earlier in his testimony, and he
will continue to do so by arguing that statements Meletus attributes to Socrates are
actually coming from the philosopher Anaxagoras:
[Socrates] Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxagoras; and you
have but a bad opinion of the judges, if you fancy them ignorant to such a degree
as not to know that those doctrines are found in the books of Anaxagoras the
Clazomenian, who is full of them. And these are the doctrines which the youth
are said to learn of Socrates, when there are not infrequently exhibitions of them
at the theatre (price of admission one drachma at the most); and they might
cheaply purchase them, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends to father such eccen-
tricities. And so, Meletus, you really think that I do not believe in any god?
[Meletus] I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all.
Now Socrates pounces on Meletus’s contradictory statements: How can Socrates

be a teacher of false gods and an atheist at the same time? Socrates, scoffing at
Meletus’s inconsistencies, now hammers his accuser with a barrage of questions:
[Socrates] You are a liar, Meletus, not believed even by yourself. For I cannot
help thinking, O men of Athens, that Meletus is reckless and impudent, and that
he has written this indictment in a spirit of mere wantonness and youthful
bravado. Has he not compounded a riddle, thinking to try me? He said to him-
self: I shall see whether this wise Socrates will discover my ingenious contradic-
tion, or whether I shall be able to deceive him and the rest of them. For he
certainly does appear to me to contradict himself in the indictment as much as
if he said that Socrates is guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet of believing
in them—but this surely is a piece of fun. I should like you, O men of Athens,
to join me in examining what I conceive to be his inconsistency; and do you,
Meletus, answer. And I must remind you that you are not to interrupt me if I
speak in my accustomed manner. Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the exis-
tence of human things, and not of human beings?
I wish, men of Athens, that he would answer, and not be always trying to get up
an interruption. Did ever any man believe in horsemanship, and not in horses? or
in flute-playing, and not in flute-players? No, my friend; I will answer to you and
to the court, as you refuse to answer for yourself. There is no man who ever did.
But now please to answer the next question: Can a man believe in spiritual and
divine agencies, and not in spirits or demigods?
[Meletus] He cannot.
The point of all these questions, which Meletus surely knew, since he was reluc-
tant to answer, was that it is very hard to be a practitioner of an activity and not
have a belief system in that activity. Socrates was probably planning on leading Mele-
tus to his point on spiritual matters gently, but having been trapped before in this
conversation, Meletus was learning that silence was a better approach. Not that it
mattered—Socrates was going to get to his point with or without Meletus’s help.
The last question—”Can a man believe in spiritual and divine agencies, and not in
spirits or demigods?”—was one to which Meletus would have to answer yes, as any
practicing member of religion in Greece at that time would. Armed with this reluc-
tant admission, Socrates launches into his last attack on Meletus’s charges.
Apology 33
I am glad that I have extracted that answer, by the assistance of the court; nev-
ertheless you swear in the indictment that I teach and believe in divine or spir-
itual agencies (new or old, no matter for that); at any rate, I believe in spiritual
agencies, as you say and swear in the affidavit; but if I believe in divine beings,
I must believe in spirits or demigods; is not that true?
Yes, that is true, for I may assume that your silence gives assent to that. Now
what are spirits or demigods? Are they not either gods or the sons of gods? Is that
true? Yes, that is true. But this is just the ingenious riddle of which I was speak-
ing: the demigods or spirits are gods, and you say first that I don’t believe in gods,
and then again that I do believe in gods; that is, if I believe in demigods. For if
the demigods are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the Nymphs or by
any other mothers, as is thought, that, as all men will allow, necessarily implies
the existence of their parents. You might as well affirm the existence of mules,
and deny that of horses and asses.
Such nonsense, Meletus, could only have been intended by you as a trial of me.
You have put this into the indictment because you had nothing real of which to
accuse me. But no one who has a particle of understanding will ever be con-
vinced by you that the same man can believe in divine and superhuman things,
and yet not believe that there are gods and demigods and heroes.
With this final barrage, Socrates dismisses Meletus and then begins to argue for
the best possible outcome of this trial: Socrates’s continued existence.
Unafraid of Death
When Socrates turns to this final phase of his defense, he first begins by pointing
out that if indeed the jury finds him guilty and condemns him to death, he’s not
overly concerned. What matters to him is that he does the right thing.
Someone will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life which
is likely to bring you to an untimely end? To him I may fairly answer: There you
are mistaken: a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance
of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing anything he is
doing right or wrong—acting the part of a good man or of a bad.
Essentially, Socrates is telling the jury that he doesn’t care if they kill him or not.
In fact, throughout this line of defense, Socrates repeats the theme that, if he dies,
it will do them (the Athenians) more harm than any harm that might befall him.
Further, he reiterates the point that no one is truly wise and anyone who admits that
would very likely welcome death as another event to be embraced and experienced—
not feared:
For this fear of death is indeed the pretence of wisdom, and not real wisdom,
being the appearance of knowing the unknown; since no one knows whether
death, which they in their fear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the
greatest good.
Is there not here conceit of knowledge, which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance?
And this is the point in which, as I think, I am superior to men in general, and
in which I might perhaps fancy myself wiser than other men, that whereas I know
but little of the world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do know that
injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and dishon-
orable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil.
Socrates then asserts that regardless of what the jury decides, he’s going to keep
doing what he’s doing. Even if, he muses, the jury were to acquit him on the
condition that he never practice his questioning again, Socrates emphatically states
that he would ignore their strictures and keep on posing the questions. The reason,
he reminds them, is a divine one:
. . . if this was the condition on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of
Athens, I honor and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while
I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of phi-
losophy, exhorting anyone whom I meet after my manner, and convincing him,
saying: O my friend, why do you who are a citizen of the great and mighty and
wise city of Athens, care so much about laying up the greatest amount of money
and honor and reputation, and so little about wisdom and truth and the great-
est improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at all? Are you not
ashamed of this? And if the person with whom I am arguing says: Yes, but I do
care; I do not depart or let him go at once; I interrogate and examine and cross-
examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue, but only says that he has, I
reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing the less. And this
I should say to everyone whom I meet, young and old, citizen and alien, but
especially to the citizens, inasmuch as they are my brethren. For this is the com-
mand of God, as I would have you know; and I believe that to this day no greater
good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God.
Because he is in the service of his god, Socrates believes that he is actually a gift
to the citizens of Athens: someone who can challenge their presumptions and make
them think of things in a new way. Socrates does mention that he prefers to do this
in private and not in a public forum.
Socrates’s feelings on politics are rather clear, since he never approved of the old
Athenian Assembly, nor the Thirty Tyrants. While carefully not implicating the cur-
rent government, Socrates cites examples of why he did not get along with either
government body:
Apology 35
Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I had led
a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always supported the right
and had made justice, as I ought, the first thing? No, indeed, men of Athens,
neither I nor any other.
Socrates then moves to another point, indicating that if he is indeed a corrupter

of youth, then right here in the trial are several examples of the youth he’s “cor-
rupted.” He then goes on to point out several of his students who are in attendance,
including Plato. His point seems to be that if these fine young men are examples of
his corruption, then surely Athens has nothing to worry about. He also gives an
opening to Meletus, inviting him to bring in anyone he’s truly corrupted. But, of
course, Meletus has no one to present.
Now Socrates begins to wrap up his defense. He makes a final appeal to the jury
to remind them that, like them, he is an ordinary man, entreated to do extraordi-
nary things with his life. He brings up his family, a wife and three sons, not as an
emotional appeal, but rather to explain their absence from these proceedings. For
if indeed Socrates will feel fear of death, he does not want to humiliate himself in
front of his loved ones.
But Socrates maintains he is fearless to the end, citing that he does not want to
be like those accused men who do nothing but beg and plead for their lives. To
Socrates, who believes that all men can do good in their own way, pleading for
leniency is just plain silly.
In the end, Socrates asks the jury to take his words to heart, in a way that was
likely one last jab at the charge of atheism:
For if, O men of Athens, by force of persuasion and entreaty, I could overpower
your oaths, then I should be teaching you to believe that there are no gods, and
convict myself, in my own defense, of not believing in them. But that is not the
case; for I do believe that there are gods, and in a far higher sense than that in
which any of my accusers believe in them. And to you and to God I commit my
cause, to be determined by you as is best for you and me.
Found Guilty
After such an eloquent argument, modern readers are often convinced that Socrates
is being framed on ridiculous charges and that any jury would find him innocent.
Modern readers, however, often view the concept of law and justice though mod-
ern means. Much of what we define as law was not quite in place in this Athenian
society. Political agendas and emotionalism played a huge role in affecting jurors’
decisions.
Socrates must have known, going into this trial, that the odds were stacked against
him; juries were open to all available men, and surely Meletus and his friends invited
as many cohorts as they could to get the conviction they wanted. This may have
been why Socrates was so resigned to death in the first place. Still, even Socrates was
surprised by the vote of 280-221 for conviction. This was a much closer outcome
than anyone would have expected, given Meletus’s vehemence for a guilty verdict.
There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote
of condemnation. I expected it, and am only surprised that the votes are so nearly
equal; for I had thought that the majority against me would have been far larger;
but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other side, I should have been
acquitted. And I may say that I have escaped Meletus. And I may say more; for
without the assistance of Anytus and Lycon, he would not have had a fifth part
of the votes, as the law requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of
a thousand drachmae, as is evident.
If Socrates is going out of his way to stick it to Meletus, Anytus, and Lycon, he
must surely be forgiven, because he has just been found guilty of the charges set
against him. In this phase of the trial is the sentencing, in which the convicted is
given the opportunity to argue for his sentence. Of course, Socrates being Socrates
does no such thing. Believing himself to be innocent of these charges, he brashly
suggests a number of sentences likely calculated to either demonstrate his disdain
at this entire proceeding, his utter irreverence for what the jurors felt, or how angry
he could make them.
Instead of death, Socrates suggests that the jury condemn him to a lifestyle vastly
different than his own for punishment. Because he has had to give up many of his
possessions and wealth to pursue his divine mission, he recommends that the jury
put him up as a ward of the state, feeding him on the public dole. Socrates argues
that this isn’t such a bad idea, since this would give him time to patiently and care-
fully explain what he’s trying to do, rather than this brief moment he’s had at this
trial. He must see the audience’s disgruntlement at this suggestion, because he moves
on to other suggestions:
Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison, and be the slave of
the magistrates of the year of the Eleven? Or shall the penalty be a fine, and
imprisonment until the fine is paid? There is the same objection. I should have
to lie in prison, for money I have none, and I cannot pay.
Exile is another option Socrates brings up, but he patiently explains to the jurors
that if he is cast out, he will either keep asking his questions (very likely getting into
the same kind of trouble he’s in now) or he will have to keep quiet. Keeping quiet
is something that Socrates doesn’t seem likely to do, and he admits it freely:
Apology 37
Someone will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and then you
may go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with you? Now I have great
difficulty in making you understand my answer to this. For if I tell you that this
would be a disobedience to a divine command, and therefore that I cannot hold
my tongue, you will not believe that I am serious; and if I say again that the great-
est good of man is daily to converse about virtue, and all that concerning which
you hear me examining myself and others, and that the life which is unexam-
ined is not worth living—that you are still less likely to believe. And yet what I
say is true, although a thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you.
This argument contains a very oft-quoted passage from Socrates: “the life which
is unexamined is not worth living.” This is the core of everything Socrates believes.
To examine himself and those around him is his passion, his obsession. This, per-
haps, more than any divine influence, is the main motivation for his questioning.
To give this up would be like giving up part of his soul.
Finally, he makes a last suggestion for a fine of 30 minae, which he believes his
students (including Plato) could pay on his behalf. Such a fine might not impress
the jury, since Socrates gets no real punishment from that, either. At this point, the
jury votes on the sentence and finds death to be the appropriate punishment.
A Man Condemned
After his sentencing, Socrates keeps on talking to the jury, berating those who con-
demned him as being too afraid to face up to the questions he had for them and
implying that their condemnation of him would raise him in stature and defame
the city. In this, he would be only half right: both Socrates and Athens are well-
regarded in the annals of history.
Socrates further attacks his condemners, saying that if they had only waited a
short time, it would be very likely that he would have died of old age rather than
by their own hand. For those who were willing to acquit him, Socrates has kinder
words. He invites them to stay around while the trial is closing and talk with him
further about all of this. Clearly, he sees a sympathetic audience, and one more
chance to examine those around him and, in turn, be examined.
Socrates asks them not to lament, for he does not fear the prospect of death. It
is either going to be an endless sleep or a journey to another place. In either case,
Socrates asserts, this is nothing to fear. He is looking forward to the experience:
Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know this of a truth—
that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He and his
are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own approaching end happened by
mere chance. But I see clearly that to die and be released was better for me; and
therefore the oracle gave no sign. For which reason also, I am not angry with my
accusers, or my condemners; they have done me no harm, although neither of
them meant to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.
Even in the end, Socrates seems to take his own words to heart and does not seek
to label anyone as evil. All the players in this drama, it seemed to him, were just
playing their parts, and ultimately what would it matter, because death was noth-
ing to be feared?
Much of what is known about the remainder of Socrates’s days is gathered from
other sources, particularly Plato’s Phaedo, because Apology ends here with a request
for the men of Athens to watch out for his sons, and be prepared to punish them
for living like their father or admonishing them if they lived like the rest of Athen-
ian society. It is known from Phaedo that Socrates was to live in prison for about a
month until his sentence was carried out. Plato visited his teacher in prison but did
not attend the actual execution—death by hemlock poisoning.
In Apology and Phaedo, Socrates often mentions how he does not fear death, and
he urges the ones around him not to grieve for him. Plato held on to his master’s
memory for a long time, which we see in later dialogues.
That Apology is the first dialogue attributed to Plato is a testament to just how
strongly Plato felt for his teacher and mentor. That the dialogue survived gives us
not only a look into that devotion, but also a look at one of the greatest philoso-
phers of our time.
4 Meno
“You argue that man cannot enquire either

about that which he knows, or about that
which he does not know; for if he knows, he
has no need to enquire; and if not, he cannot;
for he does not know the very subject about
which he is to enquire. . . .”
—Socrates, Meno
Meno is a work of fiction, with Plato paying tribute to his former teacher’s dialec-
tic process of inquiry. The conversation contained in this work did not actually
happen—Socrates would not have focused on this aspect of virtue. But Plato sticks
to Socrates’s dialectic method throughout all his works. This chapter explains why
Meno was written, what questions it sought to answer, and some of the answers that
were put forth by Plato.
Perspective on Meno
Plato’s Meno, which was written in 380 B.C.E., reveals a dialogue between two cen-
tral characters trying to discover whether virtue can be taught or whether it is some-
thing that is innate within human beings. Because one of the central characters is
Socrates, readers of Plato know this is not a question that will be answered in a
straightforward way.
The dialogue is set around 402 B.C.E., about three years before the execution of
Socrates. Plato wrote this dialogue after the founding of his Academy and after his
first trip to Sicily. The influence of his journey is apparent in Meno. In the dialogue,
Socrates is conversing with Meno, a young aristocrat. They are both in the home of
Anytus, who is hosting Meno during his visit to Athens. Anytus is a powerful fig-
ure in both the old and new Athenian Assembly, and presumably a fairly wealthy
man as well. If this name sounds familiar, recall from Chapter 3 that this is the same
Anytus who was one of Socrates’s accusers at his trial.
Meno is actually an introductory dialogue to Phaedo, in which Socrates is about

to be executed and examines the concept of immortality. In Meno, Socrates will
briefly touch on this topic, but the central focus is on the issue of what is virtue and
how it is learned.
Unlike Apology, which held very little conversational interplay and almost reads
like a monologue, Meno is a very dynamic conversation between the two central
characters and two supporting characters (the aforementioned Anytus and a slave
of Meno). There is humor, anger, and a touch of foreshadowing in this dialogue.
Plato writes about his mentor’s main goal throughout his teaching and conversing.
Also unlike Apology, it is not known if the events in Meno ever really happened,
at least not all in one conversation. Plato may have been summarizing the best of
his teacher’s arguments from a number of statements and conversations that Socrates
made in his life. It is not impossible for this exact conversation to have occurred, of
course, but Plato used the dialogue format to convey ideas and was quite willing at
times to make up characters to suit the “voices” he needed.
Meno, like all the rest of the Socratic and Platonic dialogues, with the exception
of Apology, is a work created solely to get across a number of philosophical ideas.
Although Meno primarily represents the search for the ability to learn virtue, it also
touches on a number of other questions, such as “What is virtue?” and “How is any
knowledge taught?” Meno reads like a play to modern English readers, but unlike a
play, it does not spend any time setting up the characters or where the dialogue is
taking place. It starts and ends abruptly; Plato approaches the heart of his arguments
very quickly. Beginning with the very first line of the dialogue, the search begins.
The Nature of Virtue

Can you tell me, Socrates, whether virtue is acquired by teaching or by practice;
or if neither by teaching nor practice, then whether it comes to man by nature,
or in what other way?
And with that one question, the characters of Meno and the readers are launched
on a noble task of discovery—or so it seems. When Meno asks this question of
Socrates, the Athenian immediately begins to characterize Meno’s question as some-
thing reminiscent of the Sophist Gorgias, who was familiar in Athens and in Thes-
saly, Meno’s home region. Gorgias, Socrates teases Meno, has the habit of “answering
questions in a grand and bold style, which becomes those who know.” Now Meno
is doing the same to Socrates—asking a bold question and expecting a bold answer.
Socrates will deliver nothing of the sort. Socrates immediately deflects the ques-
tion, arguing that he, like any other Athenian he knows, is scarcely able to even
define virtue, let alone figure out if it is teachable.
Meno 41
Meno thinks this answer is a bit modest. He’s talking to Socrates, after all, a
teacher of some renown, even back in Thessaly. Meno brings up Gorgias himself,
and asks if Socrates had ever met this Sophist. Despite the fact that Socrates just
brought him up and will later describe events surrounding Gorgias in detail, Socrates
will play dumb and tell Meno that he really can’t recall much about Gorgias since
he met him long ago.
This is a setup on the part of Socrates: like the master questioner he is, he wants
to get to what Meno thinks about virtue, not Gorgias, since Gorgias is a Sophist
whom Socrates has little respect for. So, deftly feigning ignorance, and perhaps
stroking Meno’s ego by comparing Meno’s ideas to Gorgias, Socrates asks Meno for
his own views on the matter.
Meno, who is quite confident in his knowledge of the way of things (though
that’s about to be seriously challenged) brashly answers that he will have no prob-
lem describing to Socrates what virtue is, and then proceeds to list a whole slew of
virtues. The reader can almost hear the glee in Socrates’s voice after Meno finishes:
[Meno] There will be no difficulty, Socrates, in answering your question. Let us

take first the virtue of a man—he should know how to administer the state, and
in the administration of it to benefit his friends and harm his enemies; and he
must also be careful not to suffer harm himself. A woman’s virtue, if you wish
to know about that, may also be easily described: her duty is to order her house,
and keep what is indoors, and obey her husband. Every age, every condition of
life, young or old, male or female, bond or free, has a different virtue: there are
virtues numberless, and no lack of definitions of them; for virtue is relative to
the actions and ages of each of us in all that we do. And the same may be said
of vice, Socrates.
[Socrates] How fortunate I am, Meno! When I ask you for one virtue, you pres-
ent me with a swarm of them, which are in your keeping.
Meno has listed a number of different virtues and, what’s more, he has ascribed
different virtues to different types of persons. A man, he reasons, should know how
to administer his actions and the actions of those around him so that he can give
and receive benefit. A woman, on the other hand, is virtuous if she keeps her house
in order and obeys her husband.
It’s important to note that Meno hasn’t really answered Socrates’s question; he
has just listed a number of examples that are actually outward symptoms of virtue.
Socrates immediately goes to work on this, expanding on his “swarm” statement
with a full-blown analogy.
[Socrates] Suppose that I carry on the figure of the swarm, and ask of you, What
is the nature of the bee? and you answer that there are many kinds of bees, and
I reply: But do bees differ as bees, because there are many and different kinds of
them; or are they not rather to be distinguished by some other quality, as for
example beauty, size, or shape? How would you answer me?
[Meno] I should answer that bees do not differ from one another, as bees.
[Socrates] And if I went on to say: That is what I desire to know, Meno; tell me
what is the quality in which they do not differ, but are all alike;—would you be
able to answer?
[Meno] I should.
[Socrates] And so of the virtues, however many and different they may be, they
have all a common nature which makes them virtues; and on this he who would
answer the question, “What is virtue?” would do well to have his eye fixed: Do
you understand?
[Meno] I am beginning to understand; but I do not as yet take hold of the ques-
tion as I could wish.
Socrates uses this analogy of bees to indicate to Meno that, although anyone can
list a string of virtues (just as anyone can describe different kinds of bees), what
Socrates really wants to know is what is the one constant that is present through-
out all forms of virtue? Knowing that constant trait, Socrates believes, is the real
answer to his question.
Meno begins to get this, but he is honest enough to admit that it hasn’t quite
clicked for him yet. Socrates continues, asking if Meno believes that the natures of
health and strength are the same, regardless of age or gender. When Meno replies
in the affirmative, Socrates follows up with his point, which Meno is hesitant to
accept:
[Socrates] And will not virtue, as virtue, be the same, whether in a child or in a
grown-up person, in a woman or in a man[?]
[Meno] I cannot help feeling, Socrates, that this case is different from the others.
Socrates presses on, bringing up Meno’s own examples of virtue to illustrate the
commonality of virtues:
[Socrates] But why? Were you not saying that the virtue of a man was to order
a state, and the virtue of a woman was to order a house?
Meno 43
[Meno] I did say so.

[Socrates] And can either house or state or anything be well ordered without
temperance and without justice?
[Meno] Certainly not.
[Socrates] Then they who order a state or a house temperately or justly order
them with temperance and justice?
[Meno] Certainly.
[Socrates] Then both men and women, if they are to be good men and women,
must have the same virtues of temperance and justice?
[Meno] True.
[Socrates] And can either a young man or an elder one be good, if they are intem-
perate and unjust?
[Meno] They cannot.
[Socrates] They must be temperate and just?
[Meno] Yes.
[Socrates] Then all men are good in the same way, and by participation in the
same virtues?
[Meno] Such is the inference.
[Socrates] And they surely would not have been good in the same way, unless
their virtue had been the same?
[Meno] They would not.
[Socrates] Then now that the sameness of all virtue has been proven, try and
remember what you and Gorgias say that virtue is.
[Meno] Will you have one definition of them all?
[Socrates] That is what I am seeking.
[Meno] If you want to have one definition of them all, I know not what to say,
but that virtue is the power of governing mankind.
Socrates, and we the readers, have finally managed to pull out a definition of virtue
from Meno. Socrates has illustrated that there is some inherent nature of virtue that
must be the same for all people. When Meno understands this, he concludes that
virtue is the power of ruling men. This is the first of three definitions of virtue that
are revealed in Meno. There are two more definitions, because Socrates, in his usual
manner, is off and running again, attempting to home in on a better definition.
First, Socrates pokes at Meno’s definition by asking if the ability to govern is a
state that applies to everyone. Can a child govern a parent? A slave his master? Meno
naturally replies in the negative, and Socrates moves on to ask Meno if he would
not like to add the term justly to his definition of virtue: “the power of governing
mankind justly.”
Meno agrees to this revision, because he believes “justice is virtue.” Socrates then
asks his companion if he means “virtue” or “a virtue.” At this point, Meno appears
to mentally stop in his tracks, because it seems Socrates is explaining a concept that,
perhaps because of his confidence, Meno really never explored before. Initially, he
doesn’t seem to get it, so Socrates tries to use an example of figures, or shapes.
[Socrates] I mean as I might say about anything; that a round, for example, is “a
figure” and not simply “figure,” and I should adopt this mode of speaking,
because there are other figures.
[Meno] Quite right; and that is just what I am saying about virtue—that there
are other virtues as well as justice.
[Socrates] What are they? [T]ell me the names of them, as I would tell you the
names of the other figures if you asked me.
[Meno] Courage and temperance and wisdom and magnanimity are virtues; and
there are many others.
[Socrates] Yes, Meno; and again we are in the same case: in searching after one
virtue we have found many, though not in the same way as before; but we have
been unable to find the common virtue which runs through them all.
[Meno] Why, Socrates, even now I am not able to follow you in the attempt to
get at one common notion of virtue as of other things.
Meno seems right on the edge of understanding here, but he is clearly struggling
to understand what Socrates is getting at: one common property that threads
through all these virtues that Meno can easily list. This is revealed in the next reply
from Socrates, as he empathizes with his companion’s confusion: “No wonder; but
I will try to get nearer if I can, for you know that all things have a common notion.”
If Meno does, indeed, know this, he seems to be having problems applying it to
something as abstract as virtue. Socrates tries a different tack, and for a while seems
to abandon the examination of virtue. It is only for a while; he’ll come back to it.
Instead, Socrates now focuses on the examples of shape and color to help define
what he’s seeking.
Meno 45
Socrates will examine the differences between “shape” and “a shape,” as well as
“color” and “a color.” After laying the groundwork for what he believes constitutes
shape, Socrates asks Meno is he can bring forth the final answer. Meno demurs,
instead asking Socrates for his definition. Socrates agrees, only if Meno promises to
tell him his best definition of virtue.
In the course of the dialogue, Socrates actually provides two definitions: that
shape is “that which always follows color”—a definition neither he nor Socrates
seems satisfied with; or that shape is “that in which the solid ends; or, more con-
cisely, the limit of the solid.”
Meno presses Socrates further, asking for the elder man’s definition of color.
Reluctantly, Socrates agrees, though he complains that Meno is not living up to his
end of the bargain. Eventually, he explains that color “is an effluence of form, com-
mensurate with sight, and palpable to sense.” This little deviation from the quest
for virtue may have twofold meaning. Obviously, the character of Socrates is
indulging Meno and trying to frame his question in a way Meno can more readily
answer at the same time. But the reader of this dialogue may be seeing the first signs
of Platonic, not Socratic, thought.
At this point in his life, Plato is becoming focused on the concepts of mathe-
matical expression of real objects—especially after meeting the Pythagorians in
southern Italy. At the time of this writing, that event was already several years’ past,
so clearly the influence of that teaching is starting to shine through. Plato has not
quite broken away from his master’s teachings, and whether through homage or
genuine exploration, he’s still taking on the quest for virtue.
When Socrates provides Meno with the definitions of shape and color, he gets
Meno to provide his third definition of virtue:
[Socrates] . . . and now, in your turn, you are to fulfill your promise, and tell me
what virtue is in the universal; and do not make a singular into a plural, as the
facetious say of those who break a thing, but deliver virtue to me whole and
sound, and not broken into a number of pieces: I have given you the pattern.
[Meno] Well then, Socrates, virtue, as I take it, is when he, who desires the hon-
orable, is able to provide it for himself; so the poet says, and I say too—
Virtue is the desire of things honorable and the power of attaining them.
Socrates immediately refutes this with a line of reasoning that he uses many times
within the Platonic dialogues. He objects to the first part of this definition because
he firmly believes that everyone desires to be honorable. He also rejects the second
part of the definition, because if people just use any method of attaining honorable
things, then that really isn’t virtuous at all.
This idea ties in with a common theme in Socrates’s reasoning, which states that
all men want to do good. Evil only happens when someone does not know what
the true good is. From all men’s perspective, everything they do is good—even if it’s
only to them. Socrates also believes that anyone who does not do good will come
to harm eventually, so where is the motive for doing wrong?
When Socrates refutes this third definition of virtue, Meno is clearly getting frus-
trated with this conversation, for his original question is still not being answered,
because neither of them can agree on what virtue is. In his frustration, Meno will
ask Socrates a question that will turn the dialogue away from the meaning of virtue
and toward the meaning of learning itself.
The Paradox of Learning

In Meno, there are three main themes of exploration. The first, which we have read
about, is the definition of virtue. The second is an examination of what can be
learned at all. Finally, there is an effort to tie these two themes together and try to
apply both concepts to the original question from Meno: Can virtue be taught?
After baffling Meno to the extreme, the young visitor to Athens loudly com-
plains to Socrates that Socrates’s questions and methods are driving him crazy. He
half-teases Socrates and compares the elder teacher to a torpedo fish (most likely an
electric eel), who shocks all that come near. Socrates does not seem to take too much
offense at the simile and fires one right back at Meno.
[Socrates] I can tell why you made a simile about me.

[Meno] Why?
[Socrates] In order that I might make another simile about you. For I know that
all pretty young gentlemen like to have pretty similes made about them—as well
they may—but I shall not return the compliment. As to my being a torpedo,
if the torpedo is torpid as well as the cause of torpidity in others, then indeed
I am a torpedo, but not otherwise; for I perplex others, not because I am clear,
but because I am utterly perplexed myself. And now I know not what virtue
is, and you seem to be in the same case, although you did once perhaps know
before you touched me. However, I have no objection to join with you in the
enquiry.
[Meno] And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know?
What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you
want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?
Meno 47
And with this last question, Plato, through the character of Meno, has presented
us with the Paradox of Inquiry, also known as Meno’s Paradox. Indeed, Socrates’s
next response summarizes the paradox quite well:
I know, Meno, what you mean; but just see what a tiresome dispute you are intro-
ducing. You argue that man cannot enquire either about that which he knows,
or about that which he does not know; for if he knows, he has no need to
enquire; and if not, he cannot; for he does not know the very subject about which
he is to enquire.
Essentially, Socrates frames Meno’s question in this way: A person either (a)
knows something or (b) does not know something. If condition (a) is true, then
there is no need for a person to ask about the “something.” If condition (b) is true,
then the person can’t ask about the “something” because he can’t ask about what he
doesn’t know. According to this set of arguments, learning is not possible. But learn-
ing is clearly demonstrated in everyday life, so this line of reasoning, although seem-
ing perfectly logical, is a paradox.
Socrates forcefully rejects this paradox, and sets himself on a course to prove to
Meno why. To do so, Socrates recites part of a popular poem that asserts Socrates’s
belief that the soul is immortal and lives out lives over and over again. Because this
is the case, when someone supposedly learns something, what he is really doing is
recalling something he sensed in a previous life. When he finishes laying out this
theory of recollection, Socrates is more than ready to get back to the question of
virtue, but Meno wants more. In fact, he asks Socrates to teach him about the
“process of recollection”:
[Socrates] I told you, Meno, just now that you were a rogue, and now you ask
whether I can teach you, when I am saying that there is no teaching, but only
recollection; and thus you imagine that you will involve me in a contradiction.
[Meno] Indeed, Socrates, I protest that I had no such intention. I only asked the
question from habit; but if you can prove to me that what you say is true, I wish
that you would.
[Socrates] It will be no easy matter, but I will try to please you to the utmost of
my power. Suppose that you call one of your numerous attendants, that I may
demonstrate on him.
Now Socrates begins to demonstrate to Meno that the boy, who apparently has
no prior knowledge of geometry, does indeed have some recollection of basic geo-
metric skills, based on the quizzing Socrates gives the boy. Through a series of ques-
tions, Socrates establishes a pattern that the boy quickly picks up and applies to
Socrates’s more-difficult questions. Meno is impressed at this demonstration, which

Socrates concludes by reestablishing his belief in an immortal soul:
[Socrates] But if he always possessed this knowledge he would always have

known; or if he has acquired the knowledge he could not have acquired it in this
life, unless he has been taught geometry; for he may be made to do the same
with all geometry and every other branch of knowledge. Now, has any one ever
taught him all this? You must know about him, if, as you say, he was born and
bred in your house.
[Meno] And I am certain that no one ever did teach him.
[Socrates] And yet he has the knowledge?
[Meno] The fact, Socrates, is undeniable.
[Socrates] But if he did not acquire the knowledge in this life, then he must have
had and learned it at some other time?
[Meno] Clearly he must.
[Socrates] Which must have been the time when he was not a man?
[Meno] Yes.
[Socrates] And if there have been always true thoughts in him, both at the time
when he was and was not a man, which only need to be awakened into knowl-
edge by putting questions to him, his soul must have always possessed this knowl-
edge, for he always either was or was not a man?
[Meno] Obviously.
[Socrates] And if the truth of all things always existed in the soul, then the soul
is immortal.
Interestingly, instead of claiming that, because the soul is immortal and, there-
fore, all knowledge is inherent and accessible within us all, Socrates maintains that
there is always going to be a difference between knowledge that is easily called up
and knowledge which is only arrived at through the kind of inquiry the young boy
has just been subjected to. In fact, without this sort of inquiry, a lot of knowledge
will lie buried, never tapped and brought to the surface. Having proved this to
Meno’s—and his own—satisfaction, Socrates is ready to move on.
[Socrates] Wherefore be of good cheer, and try to recollect what you do not know,
or rather what you do not remember.
[Meno] I feel, somehow, that I like what you are saying.
Meno 49
[Socrates] And I, Meno, like what I am saying. Some things I have said of which
I am not altogether confident. But that we shall be better and braver and less
helpless if we think that we ought to enquire, than we should have been if we
indulged in the idle fancy that there was no knowing and no use in seeking to
know what we do not know;—that is a theme upon which I am ready to fight,
in word and deed, to the utmost of my power.
[Meno] There again, Socrates, your words seem to me excellent.
[Socrates] Then, as we are agreed that a man should enquire about that which
he does not know, shall you and I make an effort to enquire together into the
nature of virtue?
[Meno] By all means, Socrates.
Teaching Virtue
Of course, Meno is not going to make it easy for Socrates, because he immediately
pursues his original question, “Whether in seeking to acquire virtue we should regard
it as a thing to be taught, or as a gift of nature, or as coming to men in some
other way?”
One wonders if Socrates was prone to slapping his forehead in frustration, as
Meno seems to have completely ignored Socrates’s whole premise that they could
not figure out if virtue is taught without first knowing what virtue is. Very reluc-
tantly, Socrates agrees to answer Meno’s question, but he first wants to reframe the
question.
And we too, as we know not the nature and qualities of virtue, must ask, whether
virtue is or not taught, under a hypothesis: as thus, if virtue is of such a class of
mental goods, will it be taught or not? Let the first hypothesis be that virtue is or
is not knowledge,— in that case will it be taught or not? or, as we were just now
saying, remembered? For there is no use in disputing about the name. But is virtue
taught or not? or rather, does not everyone see that knowledge alone is taught?
Meno agrees to this assertion, and Socrates responds that if they can indeed estab-
lish virtue as a form of knowledge, then they’ve already answered the question about
whether it can be taught, based on Socrates’s theory of recollection. Which leads
Socrates to a second hypothesis: “Whether virtue is knowledge or of another species?”
To try to answer this second hypothesis, Socrates goes back to an earlier assertion in
this dialogue—that virtue is a good. If they can demonstrate that knowledge embraces
all that is good, then virtue is a part of knowledge. But if virtue is a good separate
from knowledge, then the question of learning it becomes more difficult to answer.
Socrates and Meno step through a series of assertions that does indeed seem to
demonstrate that virtue is a part of knowledge, but Socrates holds short of actually
linking virtue and knowledge, because he is apparently stuck on an obstacle. If virtue
is indeed knowledge, which can be learned, who in the world is qualified to teach
virtue? To try to answer this question, Socrates calls over their host, the politician Any-
tus. Socrates quickly has Anytus confirm statements regarding who is qualified to
teach what: a cobbler to teach shoemaking, a physician to teach the healing arts, a
flautist to teach flute-playing, and so on. Anytus agrees with these assertions but
balks when Socrates suggests that one possible set of teachers of virtue might be the
Sophists.
[Socrates] You surely know, do you not, Anytus, that these are the people whom
mankind call Sophists?
[Anytus] By Heracles, Socrates, forbear! I only hope that no friend or kinsman
or acquaintance of mine, whether citizen or stranger, will ever be so mad as to
allow himself to be corrupted by them; for they are a manifest pest and cor-
rupting influences to those who have to do with them.
[Socrates] What, Anytus? Of all the people who profess that they know how to
do men good, do you mean to say that these are the only ones who not only do
them no good, but positively corrupt those who are entrusted to them, and in
return for this disservice have the face to demand money? Indeed, I cannot believe
you; for I know of a single man, Protagoras, who made more out of his craft than
the illustrious Pheidias, who created such noble works, or any ten other statu-
aries. How could that a mender of old shoes, or patcher up of clothes, who made
the shoes or clothes worse than he received them, could not have remained thirty
days undetected, and would very soon have starved; whereas during more than
forty years, Protagoras was corrupting all Hellas, and sending his disciples from
him worse than he received them, and he was never found out. For, if I am not
mistaken, he was about seventy years old at his death, forty of which were spent
in the practice of his profession; and during all that time he had a good reputa-
tion, which to this day he retains: and not only Protagoras, but many others are
well spoken of; some who lived before him, and others who are still living. Now,
when you say that they deceived and corrupted the youth, are they to be sup-
posed to have corrupted them consciously or unconsciously? Can those who were
deemed by many to be the wisest men of Hellas have been out of their minds?
[Anytus] Out of their minds! No, Socrates; the young men who gave their money
to them, were out of their minds, and their relations and guardians who entrusted
their youth to the care of these men were still more out of their minds, and most
of all, the cities who allowed them to come in, and did not drive them out, cit-
izen and stranger alike.
Meno 51
[Socrates] Has any of the Sophists wronged you, Anytus? What makes you so
angry with them?
[Anytus] No, indeed, neither I nor any of my belongings has ever had, nor would
I suffer them to have, anything to do with them.
Anytus’s negative reaction to the Sophists reflects the attitude that Athenians
have toward the teachers-for-hire who clung to Athenian society. Sophists were a
new concept in Athens, something that the very conservative government tended
to distrust out of the gate.
Socrates questions Anytus a bit more on the legitimacy of the Sophists, then
moves on to query if certain select citizens in Athens might be qualified to teach
virtue. But everyone Socrates has suggested has had an offspring who went in a com-
pletely different direction in life than his father. To Socrates, this indicated that what-
ever portions of virtue the wise fathers had, they clearly weren’t always able to have
that wisdom imparted to the sons. Of course, as he continues this line of question-
ing, Anytus gets angrier and parts the conversation with a foreshadowing comment:
[Socrates] Now, can there be a doubt that Thucydides, whose children were
taught things for which he had to spend money, would have taught them to be
good men, which would have cost him nothing, if virtue could have been taught?
Will you reply that he was a mean man, and had not many friends among the
Athenians and allies? Nay, but he was of a great family, and a man of influence
at Athens and in all Hellas, and, if virtue could have been taught, he would have
found out some Athenian or foreigner who would have made good men of his
sons, if he could not himself spare the time from cares of state. Once more, I
suspect, friend Anytus, that virtue is not a thing which can be taught.
[Anytus] Socrates, I think that you are too ready to speak evil of men: and, if
you will take my advice, I would recommend you to be careful. Perhaps there is
no city in which it is not easier to do men harm than to do them good, and this
is certainly the case at Athens, as I believe that you know.
Knowledge and Belief

After Anytus leaves Meno and Socrates alone, the two are still locked in their dis-
cussion about virtue and its teaching. Meno, after listening to Socrates confirm his
point about there being no good teachers of virtue available, at least by their knowl-
edge, asks Socrates a very good question:
But I cannot believe, Socrates, that there are no good men: And if there are, how
did they come into existence?
Here, Socrates launches into another analogy, this time to differentiate between
what is knowledge and what is true opinion, or belief:
[Socrates] If a man knew the way to Larisa, or anywhere else, and went to the
place and led others thither, would he not be a right and good guide?
[Meno] Certainly.
[Socrates] And a person who had a right opinion about the way, but had never
been and did not know, might be a good guide also, might he not?
[Meno] Certainly.
[Socrates] And while he has true opinion about that which the other knows, he
will be just as good a guide if he thinks the truth, as he who knows the truth?
[Meno] Exactly.
[Socrates] Then true opinion is as good a guide to correct action as knowledge;
and that was the point which we omitted in our speculation about the nature of
virtue, when we said that knowledge only is the guide of right action; whereas
there is also right opinion.
This part of Meno is alluding to what historians and philosophers would later
label Plato’s Theory of Forms. Socrates asserts that people have knowledge if they
have true beliefs and have also grasped the reasons for knowledge.
There is a link, Plato is saying through Socrates, between knowledge and teach-
ing that mere recollection will not explain. Belief in something is also important to
the acquisition of knowledge. The missing something that links knowledge and
learning is what Plato will begin to describe in his later dialogues.
The characters of Socrates and Meno seem to have come to a final, though ulti-
mately challengeable, assertion on the question of virtue and if it can be taught.
Socrates concludes that virtue, like belief, is good. Anyone who is actually virtuous
(provided a definition of virtue could ever be found) has a belief in virtue, not merely
knowledge of it.
Because virtue is a belief, Socrates has skirted the whole knowledge/recollection
question and placed virtue in a category all on its own. Essentially, because virtue
is a belief, it could be something that is divinely bestowed upon men by the gods,
or, in rare instances, something that can be passed on to others by the examples of
the virtuous. Socrates also indicates that there is still a way to go before the ability
to teach virtue can be answered. Virtue must be correctly defined—at which time
all of its characteristics will be ascertained.
5 Republic
“For what men say is that, if I am really just

and am not also thought just, profit there is
none, but the pain and loss on the other hand
are unmistakable. But if, though unjust,
I acquire the reputation of justice, a heavenly
life is promised to me.”
—Adeimantus, Republic
It has been called a blueprint for the perfect society. Governments and empires have
tried to emulate in some fashion the ideas put forth in this work. But this dialogue
of Plato was not trying to model the perfect government—it was trying to model
the human soul. This chapter explains why Republic is so important to so many dif-
ferent people in societies both past and present.
Perspective on Republic
Of all Plato’s dialogues, Republic is regarded by many scholars as the greatest work
of his life. It was not the longest—The Laws holds that distinction—but in terms
of its impact on philosophy, Republic is Plato’s most powerful work. So why does it
hold this distinction?
Several things take place in Republic, much more than Plato’s other dialogues.
Plato’s characters are in a dialectic search for the concept of justice. Along the way,
the dialogue between these men touches on many powerful themes, such as Plato’s
Metaphor of the Cave, the concept of an ideal Utopian state, the place of art in edu-
cation, an early exploration of Plato’s Theory of Forms, and the true meaning of
what is just and what isn’t.
Like many of Plato’s dialogues, Socrates plays the central figure in the work. He
is the best foil for Plato to use against his other characters to draw out the ideas Plato
wishes to bring out in the course of the work, and in Republic he does his job well.
It is in Republic that we really start to see Socrates’s words not as a faithful repre-
sentation of something Socrates said at one time or even might have said. In the
years after his mentor’s death, Plato gained a lot of his own experiences and ideas,
which come out strongly in the writings of this period of his life. The strongest evi-
dence for this was the overarching theme in Republic itself: the concept of justice—
not justice as a virtue, nor anything about virtues. Plato had moved beyond his
teacher’s focus on the meaning and definition of virtue and was now exploring other
issues. He was also exploring them in different ways.
One thing that usually strikes modern Western readers as odd about Republic is
that, when Plato describes his perfect Utopian government, it’s not the democratic
structure that many Westerners place such a high value upon. Plato thought that
democracy was not a good way to go. Although it was better than a tyrannical dic-
tatorship, the idea of giving power to the people was an anathema to Plato—
he thought democracy led to too many distractions and too much chaos. Instead,
Plato brought forth the notion that the best government would be one led by a
philosopher-king. Someone who, by being a philosopher, would have the best sense
of what was truly “good” and would thus rule in the best possible manner.
Besides being longer than the other dialogues, Republic is also traditionally organ-
ized into ten separate books, each giving a strong dialectic look at their respective
topics. Plato very likely did not section off this dialogue in this way—it was likely
done by a later scholar. Other scholars have organized Republic into other groupings—
usually five or six sections—that make more thematic sense to them. This book
sticks with the traditional ten-book organization as it references passages and out-
lines themes.
Characters of Republic
Republic stands out from the other dialogues examined in this book for another rea-
son. Stylistically, although the work is still structured as a dialogue between two or
three characters at a time, it reads more like a narrative to modern readers. Plato
moved away from the strict “script” form of dialogue and put one of his characters
in the part of the first-person narrator.
The character is, naturally, Socrates—but this version of Socrates is a bit differ-
ent from the version Plato has used before. Although many of the same personal
beliefs of the real Socrates are held by this character, there are instances in which
this Socrates diverges from ideas we have seen Socrates express in other works. Plato’s
works were never meant to be a strict biographical reconstruction of Socrates, though
many have gleaned much insight into Plato’s mentor through the retellings and
analyses of Plato’s dialogues. Still, Republic serves as a clear reminder that this Socrates
is merely a representation of the real person.
Republic 55
There are five other characters in Republic, though there are never more than
three characters in active dialogue at any point in the work. First, there is Cephalus,
the elderly man who is the eldest of the household that all the characters are visit-
ing. In his age and stately manner, Cephalus seems to represent the point of view
of those who are older, wise, and just. His son, Polemarchus, is the owner of the
home Socrates ends up visiting. Polemarchus is impatient, a bit strident, and a good
example of the bluster and impetuousness of youth.
Also in the home is Thrasymachus, who is meant to be representative of the
thoughts and manners of the Sophists. Given Socrates’s antipathy toward that group
of people, it is little wonder that Socrates immediately launches into a series of ques-
tions and arguments that gets Thrasymachus to completely shut up by the end of
Book I, never to be heard from again.
The other two characters are the brothers Glaucon and Adeimantus, with whom
Socrates maintains most of his discourses through the rest of Republic. Like Pole-
marchus, Glaucon is also young and carries many of the mannerisms of youth. Plato
has created a more likeable character in Glaucon than Polemarchus, however—
certainly Socrates likes him enough to keep talking with him for most of Republic.
Adeimantus is sterner and more introspective than his brother. His character pur-
sues arguments with Socrates more deeply. Adeimantus seems to embody the more
seasoned outlook of the grown man: someone who is open to new ideas but has seen
enough of the world already to form his own opinions.
Therefore, in these principal characters, the reader is presented with the three
stages of humanity: youth, maturity, and old age. Plato, through his characteriza-
tion of Socrates, plays off each of these representations through Republic.
The Themes of Republic

Republic has been analyzed by countless historians and philosophers throughout the
centuries. Little wonder—there is so much of the work to examine. In these analy-
ses, many themes and meanings have been gleaned from Republic, far too many to
present here. But, despite the diversity of ideas gained from Republic, some com-
mon ideas have been agreed upon.
Many would agree that the most obvious overarching theme of Republic has to
be the search for the meaning of justice. Plato touches on this in earlier dialogues,
of course, but usually justice is presented as a possible representative of a virtue or
virtue itself. Within that framework, Plato touched upon the concept of justice, but
in those dialogues justice seemed to be a secondary concept, presented to move the
dialectic to topics Plato wished to explore in his (and Socrates’s) earlier search for
virtue.
Perhaps the most prevalent framework Plato uses to describe justice is its place
within government. On several occasions, Socrates and his companions use the rules
of man as examples to describe what justice is, what it should be, and what it isn’t,
at least from their point of view. As these discussions take place, Plato takes the
opportunity to describe certain ideas that reflect what he feels is the ideal form of
government. These ideals are often referenced by political students as well as philoso-
phers when referring to what is right and wrong about any given political system.
Students and practitioners will, of course, take what they want from Republic,
though many have often mistakenly thought the dialogue was a blueprint for a dem-
ocratic, republic form of government. Nothing could be farther from the truth,
because Plato held a rather low opinion of democracy and Republic paints a picture
of a decidedly nondemocratic system of government as being a better system. It is
quite possible that Plato may have been more than a little sarcastic when using
Republic as a title.
Other translators and historians have noted this disparity and have traditionally
assigned a subtitle—Concerning Justice—to this dialogue, which better conveys the
work’s theme. It’s a broad brushstroke, which essentially covers the primary message,
but it gives little credit to the many sub-dialogues taking place in Republic that have
little to do with justice and yet are equally important.
These side conversations fulfill the role of narrative rest stops as Plato moves from
one concept to another, and they also contain their own meanings by which the
reader can be further enriched.
Book I: Beginning the Search for Justice

Book I begins in a very genteel way, as Plato slowly introduces us to the cast of char-
acters who will participate in ways large and small in Republic. Plato takes his time
here, because he knows that he has more space than usual to flesh out what he wants
his characters to say. Thus, Republic starts out less abruptly than other dialogues,
which is more comfortable for modern readers.
Having attended a festival for the goddess Bendis in the Piraeus region of Athens,
Socrates and his companion Glaucon are on their way home when they’re met in
the street by Polemarchus and his companions (among whom is Glaucon’s brother
Adeimantus). Polemarchus insists that Socrates and Glaucon join them at his nearby
home, and he won’t take no for an answer. He apparently wants a chance to con-
verse with the famous Socrates, and he’s going to get his wish.
That Plato chose Polemarchus as a character for this dialogue is more than a lit-
tle ironic. The setting for this work is well before the coming rule of the Tyrants,
though it was written well afterward. When the Thirty Tyrants were set in place by
Republic 57
Sparta, Piraeus was home to many staunch democracy advocates who would openly
and covertly oppose the Tyrants. Polemarchus himself would fund the inevitable
revolution from his family’s business—and would ultimately be executed for it.
Socrates, whose ideas would later be “adopted” by the ruling Thirty as justifica-
tion for their actions, is welcomed into Polemarchus’s home like one of the family.
Plato, who never cared for the actions of the Thirty, may be making a belated state-
ment here on their harsh brutality. Even if you disagree with one’s beliefs, there is
still room for civility and friendship, not barbarism.
When Socrates and Glaucon arrive at the home of Polemarchus, Socrates soon
falls into a conversation with Polemarchus’s father Cephalus. At first, the conversa-
tion is about old age, where Cephalus shares his experiences as an elder Athenian
rather readily. Cephalus points out that, while many of his friends are lamenting the
loss of their old appetites for food, sex, and other pleasures, Cephalus sees the loss
of these urges as liberating:
How well I remember the aged poet Sophocles, when in answer to the question,
How does love suit with age, Sophocles, —are you still the man you were? Peace,
he replied; most gladly have I escaped the thing of which you speak; I feel as if
I had escaped from a mad and furious master. His words have often occurred to
my mind since, and they seem as good to me now as at the time when he uttered
them. For certainly old age has a great sense of calm and freedom; when the pas-
sions relax their hold, then, as Sophocles says, we are freed from the grasp not
of one mad master only, but of many.
Socrates points out that many would say that old age suits Cephalus well because
he is so wealthy. His riches make his mature years much more bearable than most.
Cephalus denies this, lamenting that people don’t believe him when he tells them
his money has little to do with it:
I might answer them as Themistocles answered the Seriphian who was abusing
him and saying that he was famous, not for his own merits but because he was
an Athenian: “If you had been a native of my country or I of yours, neither of
us would have been famous.” And to those who are not rich and are impatient
of old age, the same reply may be made; for to the good poor man old age can-
not be a light burden, nor can a bad rich man ever have peace with himself.
When Socrates asks Cephalus what he feels the greatest benefit of his wealth is,
the older man explains that as he approaches death, niggling doubts about the after-
life haunt his mind more and more. Having wealth, he believes, is of great comfort
to him, because it can help him right any injustices he may have committed toward
others in the past that might adversely affect his status in the hereafter.
Immediately, Socrates picks up on the topic of justice, and begins to question

his companions on what justice is. Is it truthfulness and the payment of debts as
Cephalus suggests? Or is it something else? Socrates, with a quick example, points
out that this may not serve as a good definition of justice:
Suppose that a friend when in his right mind has deposited arms with me and
he asks for them when he is not in his right mind, ought I to give them back to
him? No one would say that I ought or that I should be right in doing so, any
more than they would say that I ought always to speak the truth to one who is
in his condition.
At this point in the conversation, Polemarchus steps in, and Cephalus sees this
as good place to excuse himself and tend to the sacrifices. Polemarchus willingly
takes up the line of conversation and tries to defend his father’s definition of
justice.
Socrates continues to challenge Cephalus’s and Polemarchus’s assertion that the
payment of debt is not, alone, a proper definition of justice. (Both men, by the way,
are borrowing their definition of justice from the wise man Simonides.) Polemarchus
elaborates Simonides’s definition of payment as giving good to those who are good
and giving bad to those who are evil. This differentiation, Polemarchus asserts, is
very important.
Socrates further asserts that those people who are knowledgeable and skilled at
dispensing justice are also, by virtue of being savvy about justice, just as skilled at
dispensing injustice. Socrates also questions Polemarchus on how we define our
friends and enemies. When he gets Polemarchus to admit that we do sometimes
misjudge people and, thus, it is possible to treat good people badly and bad people
well, Polemarchus retreats from this assertion and tries to better define the mean-
ing of friend and enemy as those who do good or bad to you. Socrates seems to accept
this as a hypothesis, and even provides Polemarchus with a quote of the idea from
another wise man:
I believe that Periander or Perdiccas or Xerxes or Ismenias the Theban, or some
other rich and mighty man, who had a great opinion of his own power, was the
first to say that justice is “doing good to your friends and harm to your enemies.”
At this point in the conversation, Thrasymachus jumps in. He has been listen-
ing to this discussion, which by now has drawn a crowd of listeners in the home,
and has been chafing to get into the discussion himself. Now, at a pause, he
approaches the two men and scornfully derides Socrates for his constant asking of
questions. Indeed, Thrasymachus ridicules the whole notion of Socrates’s method,
and demands that he tell them, the gathered audience, what he believes justice is.
Republic 59
Nonplussed, Socrates (who had already seen Thrasymachus on the sidelines get-
ting more and more irritated) begged off modestly, but Thrasymachus pressed on,
telling his fellow houseguests that he knew Socrates would plead his “false modesty.”
Socrates and Thrasymachus clearly don’t like each other or the methods by which
they try to learn and teach. In fact, when Socrates asks Thrasymachus to provide his
insights, Thrasymachus refuses until he can get paid. This falls right in line with
Plato’s bias against the Sophists. Even after Glaucon assures Thrasymachus that he
will indeed be paid, Thrasymachus still resists, stating that Socrates will just keep
taking apart any definitions of justice with his constant questioning.
After a little coaxing, Thrasymachus finally and boastfully gives his explanation
of justice: “I proclaim that justice is nothing else than the interest of the stronger.”
Socrates immediately starts trying to get Thrasymachus to define this statement more
completely. Is justice what the stronger thinks is good? In that case, what if the
stronger is wrong and makes a mistake? Thrasymachus replies, trading insults with
Socrates along the way, that because they are the stronger, they won’t make mistakes.
Socrates is likely fairly happy with Thrasymachus’s attitude by now, and we start
to see some of the crafty fire in his next line of reasoning. Describing the works of
artists and craftsmen, Socrates asserts that they’re actually more concerned with
doing good to the things they create, not to themselves. The implication here is that
a ruler would also have that outward focus.
Thrasymachus tries to argue this point, indicating that the shepherd does not
have the good of the sheep in mind when he cares for them. Ultimately, he will want
to shear them and eat them, which does the sheep no good at all. In fact, he adds
(in a rather long discourse), if Socrates had any sense at all, he would realize that
the unjust are always getting more than the just in any given situation.
Thrasymachus tries to leave at this point, perhaps to escape the inevitable Socratic
questions and, thus, have the last word, but Socrates and the others won’t let him
go. Socrates goes back to the shepherd analogy that Thrasymachus brought up and
gets Thrasymachus to agree that the shepherd actually can have two interests in mind
as he does his job: the short-term concern for the sheep and the long-term concern
for his job.
Socrates leads Thrasymachus and the rest of his audience down a slightly differ-
ent path, suggesting that because practitioners of a given art ultimately do not do
themselves any good, then it must follow that the best rulers will be those who are
most reluctant to rule. If they do their job right, they will not receive good anyway,
so why expect it?
As he continues to argue with Thrasymachus, Socrates puts out three theories
on what a just man is. First, he maintains that the just are good and wise and the
unjust evil and ignorant. He then also stipulates that injustice, by its very nature,
creates all sorts of problems and is ultimately not very efficient. Finally, he concludes
that the just are capable of living a better life than the unjust.
When Thrasymachus, who has calmed down a bit, congratulates Socrates on his
discoveries, Socrates laments that, although they have approached better definitions
of what the just and unjust do, they still don’t know what justice is, or whether it
is more or less profitable than injustice. With this statement hanging in the air,
Book I ends.
Book II: A City of Justice

Socrates thinks he is finished, but Glaucon is not satisfied with the conclusion of the
argument. He feels Thrasymachus gave up too easily, and he endeavors to pick up
where the Sophist left off, albeit in a more constructive manner. He proposes to give
a speech arguing against justice and then let Socrates give a speech advocating justice.
Glaucon then launches into a lengthy and well-reasoned continuation of Thrasy-
machus’s earlier line of reasoning of why injustice is something that is easier to obtain
than justice. Justice, he argues, is actually something that is gained more through
compromise than anything else.
Glaucon also asserts that justice must have some compulsory nature. Given the
same circumstances, a just man and an unjust man will eventually end up doing the
exact same things. He even relates the tale of an ancestor of Gynes the Lydian, a shep-
herd who found himself with a ring that could render him invisible. When he deduced
the power of the ring, the shepherd eventually used it to kill his king and take over
his kingdom. Glaucon argues that any man who finds himself in a similar situation
would eventually want to take such abuses. Therefore, justice must be something
involuntary and compulsory that prevents such things from happening all the time.
He also states that people seek justice for only its rewards, and these rewards can
be obtained by only maintaining the appearance of justice or injustice. How peo-
ple behave is a far stronger determinant than how they fundamentally are.
When Glaucon finishes, Socrates is all ready to answer him, but Adeimantus
feels compelled to jump in and back up his brother’s arguments with some asser-
tions of his own. Adeimantus wants to make two more points to bolster Glaucon’s
case, and Socrates is very happy to let him.
Justice, Adeimantus maintains, is something that is sought out for its ultimate
rewards—not necessarily simply for being just:
Parents and tutors are always telling their sons and their wards that they are to
be just; but why? not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of character and
Republic 61
reputation; in the hope of obtaining for him who is reputed just some of those
offices, marriages, and the like which Glaucon has enumerated among the advan-
tages accruing to the unjust from the reputation of justice. More, however, is
made of appearances by this class of persons than by the others; for they throw
in the good opinion of the gods, and will tell you of a shower of benefits which
the heavens, as they say, rain upon the pious.
Not only that, Adeimantus states, but justice is also characterized as something
that is separate from the concept of happiness, because dispensing and receiving jus-
tice are at once both happy and unhappy events, depending on one’s perspective.
Adeimantus cites these as two popular opinions of justice, and wonders aloud to
Socrates and the gathering if these characterizations are having a negative impact on
the youth of Athens (not knowing, within the context of this dialogue, that this is
a charge that will be leveled at Socrates later with much more serious consequences).
As the narrator, Socrates reveals that his high opinion of these two brothers has
only been increased by their statements, for they were well-reasoned and without
the egoism that peppers other interlocutors’ arguments. They have done such a good
job, Socrates says, that he is unsure of where to begin to defend justice. But he surely
must defend her, because it is justice.
Socrates proposes that instead of focusing tightly on justice at the individual
level, he be allowed to widen his focus and instead describe justice within a city. He
believes that, after establishing the meaning of justice within this analogy, he will
be able to apply it to the individual. The group agrees, and thus the beginnings of
the political slant to Republic begin.
To begin, Socrates sets up what is probably a traditional model of a city, with all
the motivations and drives of a typical city. With Adeimantus and Glaucon, Socrates
creates a hypothetical city with tradesmen, craftsmen, and—eventually—all the pos-
sible citizenry such a city would need. But, after building this city construct, Socrates
asks the most relevant question in his mind:
[Socrates] And now, Adeimantus, is our State matured and perfected?

[Adeimantus] I think so.
[Socrates] Where, then, is justice, and where is injustice, and in what part of the
State did they spring up?
[Adeimantus] Probably in the dealings of these citizens with one another. [I] can-
not imagine that they are more likely to be found anywhere else.
[Socrates] I dare say that you are right in your suggestion, I said; we had better
think the matter out, and not shrink from the enquiry.
Glaucon interrupts here and states that he believes that the city as they describe
it is really not that civilized—has Socrates forgotten the art of gourmet cooking in
his model? Perhaps Glaucon is hungry, but it does give Socrates an excellent oppor-
tunity to change the premise of his city. This city will not be a typical Greek city,
but something truly hypothetical—a city of luxury.
Such a city would have even greater needs for goods and services, as well as land
to maintain its way of life. Some of these resources, particularly the land, may have
to be taken from others who are using the land themselves. This, then, the group
reasons, may be the origin of war.
To keep others from stealing what they have, the city will need to have an army
to protect it. This army would have to be something that was at the time a foreign
idea; it would have to be, in order to be really good, a professional, standing army.
This was unlike anything the Greeks had practiced. When wars were fought, freemen
and slaves would be encouraged or pressed into service to fight for the duration of
the conflict. After the war was over, they would go home to their former lives.
Socrates’s suggestion was that his mythical, luxurious city would be protected by a
dedicated force of men with no other jobs than to be in the army.
In his conversation with Glaucon, Socrates further reasons that, because a great
army is apt to be aggressive and combative, something must be done to prevent such
aggression from being directed at themselves and the citizenry of the city. Such a
requirement would mean that this army would have to be highly educated, so they
could act with wisdom toward whomever they were dealing with. If they were edu-
cated properly, these guardians might be the very agents of justice and injustice this
hypothetical city needs. But now a new question is revealed:
[Socrates] Then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of the State
will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit and swiftness and strength?
[Glaucon] Undoubtedly.
[Socrates] Then we have found the desired natures; and now that we have found
them, how are they to be reared and educated? Is not this enquiry which may be
expected to throw light on the greater enquiry which is our final end —How do
justice and injustice grow up in States? For we do not want either to omit what
is to the point or to draw out the argument to an inconvenient length.
Faced with the daunting task of educating these civic guardians, the group turns
its attention to the job.
Socrates proposes that in order to build a better foundation, topics such as music
and poetry should be taught before physical and combat training. His companions
Republic 63
agree but give pause when Socrates starts to ask whether they agree that music and
poetry are all part of the storytelling arts and that, like any story, there are stories
that are true and those that are false.
Adeimantus agrees, perhaps not knowing where Socrates is leading him. It soon
becomes clear when Socrates advocates that in order for the guardians of the city to
be taught properly, they should only have the “good” stories delivered to them, not
the bad. The storytellers should be monitored and allowed to relate only the posi-
tive stories.
Because, in these times, most stories (and music and art) were directly related to
the gods, it further became necessary to censor worship as well, Socrates continued.
Only the “right” gods should be worshipped and even then, only the stories that
related their positive aspects should be told.
To many in Western society, such a restriction is appalling, but remember, this
is ancient Greece. Freedom of expression was allowed—until one angered the State,
and then all bets were off. Thus, Socrates’s suggestion was perfectly viable to the
men he was speaking to.
The city’s approved gods would have to remain constant as well, to maintain a
moral center for its citizens. As one of the city’s “founders,” Socrates successfully
argues that these ideals be mandated as laws for the city, with strong punishments
if not followed, which ends Book II:
[Socrates] These are the kind of sentiments about the gods which will arouse our
anger; and he who utters them shall be refused a chorus; neither shall we allow
teachers to make use of them in the instruction of the young, meaning, as we
do, that our guardians, as far as men can be, should be true worshippers of the
gods and like them.
[Glaucon] I entirely agree, he said, in these principles, and promise to make them
my laws.
Book III: Educating the Guardians

Book III of Republic is really a straightforward continuation of Book II, where
Socrates and his companions go on with their debate on how to educate the
guardians of their hypothetical city, which is quickly shaping up to be a Utopian-
like environment.
When Socrates polls his companions, they quickly draw up a list of the kinds of
stories that they would allow the guardians to hear. Only stories that told of courage
would be told, and certainly no stories about “weepings and wailings of famous
men.” Nor would there be any stories with excessive humor on the part of the gods,
because that usually led to mischief. Temperance is another area that stories should
focus upon, Socrates suggests.
Socrates also proposes an interesting suggestion on stories highlighting truth.
The average citizen should not be allowed to hear tales showing the value of lies.
Only truth should be advocated for them. But for the guardians of the city, a dif-
ferent standard applies. The guardians and their rulers should know how to lie—to
the city’s enemies and even to the citizens if need be. Only rulers, Socrates main-
tains, should be allowed to lie.
After running through this list of approved topics, the group turns to figuring
out how these stories should be presented. Socrates spends a bit of time teaching
Adeimantus and the rest of his listeners about the differences between straightfor-
ward narrative and imitative narrative. His point here, it seems, is to advocate one
form or the other and not a mix of the two methods in any tale or poem. These
requirements also would apply to musical forms.
Socrates spends a lot of time focusing on musical and artistic education, and
eventually reveals how important he believes it is within the context of a proper
overall education:
[Socrates] And therefore, I said, Glaucon, musical training is a more potent

instrument than any other, because rhythm and harmony find their way into the
inward places of the soul, on which they mightily fasten, imparting grace, and
making the soul of him who is rightly educated graceful, or of him who is ill-
educated ungraceful; and also because he who has received this true education
of the inner being will most shrewdly perceive omissions or faults in art and
nature, and with a true taste, while he praises and rejoices over and receives into
his soul the good, and becomes noble and good, he will justly blame and hate
the bad, now in the days of his youth, even before he is able to know the reason
why; and when reason comes he will recognize and salute the friend with whom
his education has made him long familiar.
[Glaucon] Yes, he said, I quite agree with you in thinking that our youth should
be trained in music and on the grounds which you mention.
[Socrates] Just as in learning to read, I said, we were satisfied when we knew the
letters of the alphabet, which are very few, in all their recurring sizes and com-
binations; not slighting them as unimportant whether they occupy a space large
or small, but everywhere eager to make them out; and not thinking ourselves
perfect in the art of reading until we recognize them wherever they are found:
[Glaucon] True.
Republic 65
[Socrates] Or, as we recognize the reflection of letters in the water, or in a mir-

ror, only when we know the letters themselves; the same art and study giving us
the knowledge of both:
[Glaucon] Exactly—
[Socrates] Even so, as I maintain, neither we nor our guardians, whom we have
to educate, can ever become musical until we and they know the essential forms,
in all their combinations, and can recognize them and their images wherever
they are found, not slighting them either in small things or great, but believing
them all to be within the sphere of one art and study.
When these guidelines have been established, Socrates moves on to focus on phys-
ical education for the guardians. Their diets should be, like the rest of their education,
simple and austere. Doctors and medicine should only be utilized when necessary.
Next, Socrates asks the group how this city’s rulers should be selected. He has
some ideas of his own, which he presents to his audience:
[Socrates] There can be no doubt that the elder must rule the younger.
[Glaucon] Clearly.
[Socrates] And that the best of these must rule.
[Glaucon] That is also clear.
[Socrates] Now, are not the best husbandmen those who are most devoted to
husbandry?
[Glaucon] Yes.
[Socrates] And as we are to have the best of guardians for our city, must they not
be those who have most the character of guardians?
[Glaucon] Yes.
[Socrates] And to this end they ought to be wise and efficient, and to have a spe-
cial care of the State?
[Glaucon] True.
[Socrates] And a man will be most likely to care about that which he loves?
[Glaucon] To be sure.
[Socrates] And he will be most likely to love that which he regards as having the
same interests with himself, and that of which the good or evil fortune is sup-
posed by him at any time most to affect his own?
[Glaucon] Very true, he replied.

[Socrates] Then there must be a selection. Let us note among the guardians those
who in their whole life show the greatest eagerness to do what is for the good of
their country, and the greatest repugnance to do what is against her interests.
Socrates outlines a series of tests, both physical and mental, that will properly
determine the rulers from among the guardians. After these are fleshed out to his
satisfaction, he then moves on to create a very elaborate origin legend to help enforce
the rulers’, guardians’, and citizens’ places in society.
The group likes the legend, though they are not sure how it will stand up over
the test of time as new generations are born. Socrates suggests another method of
maintaining social stratification: forbidding the guardians private property. This is
an extension of his ideas about a purely professional army.
If the guardians were to become landowners and holders of property, then they
would immediately be distracted from what should be their sole vocation. They
would also become embroiled in the internal politics of the city, and therefore
vulnerable to all the problems that entails. Better, Socrates argues at the end of
Book III, to keep the guardians separate.
Book IV: The City as Soul

The initial dialogue in Book IV finishes up the modeling of the city. After hearing
the seemingly harsh strictures placed on the guardians, Adeimantus objects, won-
dering how they would ever be happy under such living conditions.
Socrates replies that it’s not important that one part of the society they’re describ-
ing is made happy—what matters is the happiness of the city as a whole. If every-
one is happy at the same time, the city effectively becomes one great big party, with
no one getting anything constructive accomplished.
In fact, Socrates advocates, in order to keep this from happening, wealth will
need to be limited in the city and so, too, will the size and population of the city,
though for slightly different reasons. If there is too much wealth, then the popula-
tion will be apt to start getting lazy. If there is too much size, then there is a danger
that the city will become factionalized as different social groups get large enough
that they feel able to split off from the rest of the city. Above all, Socrates empha-
sizes, education must be the primary directive for the guardians:
[Socrates] The regulations which we are prescribing, my good Adeimantus, are

not, as might be supposed, a number of great principles, but trifles all, if care be
Republic 67
taken, as the saying is, of the one great thing, —a thing, however, which I would
rather call, not great, but sufficient for our purpose.
[Adeimantus] What may that be? he asked.
[Socrates] Education, I said, and nurture: If our citizens are well educated, and
grow into sensible men, they will easily see their way through all these, as well
as other matters which I omit; such, for example, as marriage, the possession of
women and the procreation of children, which will all follow the general prin-
ciple that friends have all things in common, as the proverb says.
When the discussion turns more toward the general behavior of the youth as
they’re being educated, Socrates actually inserts a note of caution. The city’s gov-
ernment should not spend a lot of time fretting about trivial rules such as manner
of dress or hairstyles or proper manners. In these, and many other areas of society,
the rulers should try to refrain from an overabundance of laws.
Finally, the city’s traditions and culture should be maintained by the religious
leaders in the society, not by the city’s rulers themselves. Socrates is, in this, consis-
tent with his belief that the city’s government should be focused on one job alone.
By now, the model of the ideal city has been completed to the group’s satisfac-
tion. Now, according to Socrates, the real work begins:
[Socrates] But where, amid all this, is justice? son of Ariston, tell me where. Now
that our city has been made habitable, light a candle and search, and get your
brother and Polemarchus and the rest of our friends to help, and let us see where
in it we can discover justice and where injustice, and in what they differ from
one another, and which of them the man who would be happy should have for
his portion, whether seen or unseen by gods and men.
[Glaucon] Nonsense, said Glaucon: did you not promise to search yourself, say-
ing that for you not to help justice in her need would be an impiety?
[Socrates] I do not deny that I said so, and as you remind me, I will be as good
as my word; but you must join.
After over two books’ worth of discussion, Socrates is now ready to lead the group
back to its original goal: the search for justice. Recall from Book II, the intent was
to create a scenario where justice could be found in a city, and thereby apply it to
the individual.
It is important to note that the city is broadly analogous to a human being. But
many scholars have interpreted the analogy to be a bit finer: The city is a represen-
tation of the human soul. By Socrates’s definition, the city—and thus, the soul—is
ultimately composed of four characteristics: It “is therefore wise and valiant and
temperate and just.”
Socrates proposes a subtractive method of determining what is just in the city,
by determining what is wise, valiant, and temperate first. Whatever is left over, he
concludes, will be justice. The city’s wisdom, he opines, is held by the city’s rulers.
The valiant nature is held by the guardians. Its temperance is found, Socrates says,
in the willingness of the citizens to remain under the rule of those who are most
qualified to rule. So what, then, is justice?
Through this section of the dialogue, Socrates has been leading his fellows
through the search for these qualities as a hunter might lead a group of huntsmen.
With more than a little imagination and humor, he brings his merry band toward
the ultimate goal.
[Socrates] The time then has arrived, Glaucon, when, like huntsmen, we should
surround the cover, and look sharp that justice does not steal away, and pass out
of sight and escape us; for beyond a doubt she is somewhere in this country:
watch therefore and strive to catch a sight of her, and if you see her first, let me
know.
[Glaucon] Would that I could! But you should regard me rather as a follower
who has just eyes enough to see what you show him—that is about as much as
I am good for.
[Socrates] Offer up a prayer with me and follow.
[Glaucon] I will, but you must show me the way.
[Socrates] Here is no path, I said, and the wood is dark and perplexing; still we
must push on.
[Glaucon] Let us push on.
[Socrates] Here I saw something: Halloo! I said, I begin to perceive a track, and
I believe that the quarry will not escape.
[Glaucon] Good news, he said.
[Socrates] Truly, I said, we are stupid fellows.
[Glaucon] Why so?
[Socrates] Why, my good sir, at the beginning of our enquiry, ages ago, there was
justice tumbling out at our feet, and we never saw her; nothing could be more
ridiculous. Like people who go about looking for what they have in their hands—
that was the way with us—we looked not at what we were seeking, but at what
was far off in the distance; and therefore, I suppose, we missed her.
Republic 69
[Glaucon] What do you mean?

[Socrates] I mean to say that in reality for a long time past we have been talking
of justice, and have failed to recognize her.
[Glaucon] I grow impatient at the length of your exordium.
[Socrates] Well then, tell me, I said, whether I am right or not: You remember
the original principle which we were always laying down at the foundation of
the State, that one man should practice one thing only, the thing to which his
nature was best adapted; —now justice is this principle or a part of it.
[Glaucon] Yes, we often said that one man should do one thing only.
[Socrates] Further, we affirmed that justice was doing one’s own business, and
not being a busybody; we said so again and again, and many others have said the
same to us.
[Glaucon] Yes, we said so.
[Socrates] Then to do one’s own business in a certain way may be assumed to be
justice.
In a funny, roundabout way, Socrates is describing justice as the ability of each

member of the society to perform his or her proper function. If a carpenter remains
a good carpenter, a ruler a good ruler, and so on, then all is fair and just.
Now comes the tricky part—the successful transposition of the characteristics
of the city to those of the human soul. If, Socrates maintains, they can discover a
one-to-one relationship between the characteristics of the two, then they will have
succeeded in determining what justice is.
The first set of inquiries in this search is to determine whether the three classes
of the city—rulers, guardians, and citizens—have an equivalent three functions
within the soul. Socrates believes there are three such functions: the rational, the
spiritual, and the desiring elements.
After spending a bit of time establishing that these three elements of the soul
correspond to the three classes of the city, Socrates is then able to make the state-
ment that for the soul, the ability to keep these three aspects in their proper place,
performing their proper functions, is the best description of justice. When any one
aspect of the soul moves beyond its boundaries, to excess, then injustice will clearly
be the result.
Satisfied that they have indeed found the best definitions of justice and injus-
tice, Socrates tries to go back to the original question of which one is more prof-
itable. Glaucon immediately asserts that the whole question is pointless by now,
because, if injustice represents the manifestation of an unbalanced soul, it is obvi-

ous that injustice is something to be avoided, regardless of the short-term rewards.
Socrates is reluctant to abandon the question so quickly; to him, the city they
just finished describing only represents one form of government: a monarchy or
aristocracy, depending on the number of rulers. To him, because of the unified struc-
ture of the ruler’s (or rulers’) education, to distinguish them as separate forms of
state is unnecessary—they’re one form among a total of five.
What distinguished their city is that it represents the one virtuous state in
the midst of four others, which represent special vices. And, like the city, Socrates
asserts that there are five kinds of human soul—one type filled with virtue and four
with vice.
How justice and injustice function in their modeled virtuous city may not be
the same in the other types of government, so Socrates proposes that they examine
the other four unjust, vice-ridden types of state (and the four corresponding types
of the soul) to get a better perspective.
Book V: Refining the City Model

In a tidy literary move, Plato decides to postpone this line of reasoning for a while.
The examination of the unjust societies will not take place until Book VIII, as Plato
has his characters further refine the model of the city they’ve created.
In the meantime, Glaucon and Adeimantus begin a whispered conversation off
to the side, which attracts Socrates’s attention. It seems something that he said dur-
ing the construction of the city is still bothering them, which Adeimantus voices first:
[Socrates] Yes, he said; but what is right in this particular case, like everything
else, requires to be explained; for community may be of many kinds. Please,
therefore, to say what sort of community you mean. We have been long expect-
ing that you would tell us something about the family life of your citizens —
how they will bring children into the world, and rear them when they have
arrived, and, in general, what is the nature of this community of women and
children—for we are of opinion that the right or wrong management of such
matters will have a great and paramount influence on the State for good or for
evil. And now, since the question is still undetermined, and you are taking in
hand another State, we have resolved, as you heard, not to let you go until you
give an account of all this.
[Glaucon] To that resolution, said Glaucon, you may regard me as saying Agreed.
[Thrasymachus] And without more ado, said Thrasymachus, you may consider
us all to be equally agreed.
Republic 71
[Socrates] I said, You know not what you are doing in thus assailing me: What
an argument are you raising about the State! Just as I thought that I had finished,
and was only too glad that I had laid this question to sleep, and was reflecting
how fortunate I was in your acceptance of what I then said, you ask me to begin
again at the very foundation, ignorant of what a hornet’s nest of words you are
stirring. Now I foresaw this gathering trouble, and avoided it.
Apparently, this whole notion of holding things in common is still troubling

Socrates’s companions, for they don’t understand how such a state would function,
particularly when taking women and children into account. Socrates, who seems to
have wanted to move on, is distracted by the side argument but nonetheless agrees,
albeit grudgingly, to help explain the model in more detail.
Reluctantly, Socrates puts forth the idea that in the guardian class, the women
should be treated exactly the same as the men. Faced with the natural resistance of
this idea from the men of his culture, since women in ancient Greece had very lit-
tle rights outside of the home, Socrates argues that not only is this solution neces-
sary, it is also a better way to maintain the guardian class.
Given Athenian opinions of women, he has to spend quite a bit of time con-
vincing this group that this is a good idea. When the (to them) natural arguments
come up that women are weaker than men, and far different from men, Socrates
defends his position by asserting that in the end, if all guardians regardless of gen-
der are given exactly the same education, then the differences will not matter. A
proper education, Socrates believes, is enough to smooth out any natural strengths
or weaknesses between the genders.
Addressing the notion of childrearing in this city, Socrates again focuses on the
guardian class, because the way they live should, in his view, extend out to the other
classes. The guardians, he believes, should not maintain separate families, but should
rather live a communal form of existence. There should be no husband/wife pair-
ings, and all children should belong to all adults.
Again, Socrates has to spend quite a bit of time in the dialogue explaining how this
will all work, and goes into some detail as to the breeding and sexual logistics of such
a system. By the time he finishes, the gathering of men has no trouble agreeing with
the unifying power of such an arrangement, as the guardians will certainly be happy.
The discussion then goes on to examine how the guardians will conduct a war,
and Socrates offers quite a few ideas on how such activities will take place. Eventu-
ally, though, Glaucon grinds the conversation to a halt:
[Glaucon] But still I must say, Socrates, that if you are allowed to go on in this
way you will entirely forget the other question which at the commencement of
this discussion you thrust aside: —Is such an order of things possible, and how,
if at all? For I am quite ready to acknowledge that the plan which you propose,
if only feasible, would do all sorts of good to the State. I will add, what you have
omitted, that your citizens will be the bravest of warriors, and will never leave
their ranks, for they will all know one another, and each will call the other father,
brother, son; and if you suppose the women to join their armies, whether in the
same rank or in the rear, either as a terror to the enemy, or as auxiliaries in case
of need, I know that they will then be absolutely invincible; and there are many
domestic advantages which might also be mentioned and which I also fully
acknowledge: but, as I admit all these advantages and as many more as you please,
if only this State of yours were to come into existence, we need say no more about
them; assuming then the existence of the State, let us now turn to the question
of possibility and ways and means—the rest may be left.
[Socrates] If I loiter for a moment, you instantly make a raid upon me, I said,
and have no mercy; I have hardly escaped the first and second waves, and you
seem not to be aware that you are now bringing upon me the third, which is the
greatest and heaviest. When you have seen and heard the third wave, I think you
[will] be more considerate and will acknowledge that some fear and hesitation
was natural respecting a proposal so extraordinary as that which I have now to
state and investigate.
[Glaucon] The more appeals of this sort which you make, he said, the more deter-
mined are we that you shall tell us how such a State is possible: speak out and at
once.
This literary device may be of great use, because it seems that these men could
go on all night hypothesizing about the nature of their city. Glaucon, it seems, is
thinking past the conversation and is more interested in how such a city could ever
exist.
Socrates reminds him that this hypothetical city has already proven to be of some
use—after all, it got them to the answer of justice and injustice, didn’t it? Glaucon
agrees, and Socrates obliges him by putting forth the only way he can see such a
society to come into existence.
[Socrates] I said: Until philosophers are kings, or the kings and princes of this
world have the spirit and power of philosophy, and political greatness and wis-
dom meet in one, and those commoner natures who pursue either to the exclu-
sion of the other are compelled to stand aside, cities will never have rest from their
evils, —nor the human race, as I believe, —and then only will this our State have
a possibility of life and behold the light of day. Such was the thought, my dear
Glaucon, which I would fain have uttered if it had not seemed too extravagant;
Republic 73
for to be convinced that in no other State can there be happiness private or pub-
lic is indeed a hard thing.
His fellow houseguests are more than a little skeptical; Glaucon is in shock at
the suggestion. But after defining what philosophy is, Socrates gets the group to
agree that such men are the best keepers of wisdom any society could have. At this,
Book V ends, still leaving Socrates the task to convince them that philosopher-kings
would be the ideal rulers for such a society.
Book VI: The Search for

a Philosopher-King
The next book continues right where Book V left off, with Socrates asserting that,
because of the superior nature of a philosopher’s wisdom, he is the perfect person
for all citizens of their just society to have as a leader.
But now the problem remains: What kind of philosopher should be placed in
this position? First and foremost, these learned men should have experience not only
in all things philosophical, but also in practical matters. The philosopher should
possess strong virtues as well, such as a love of knowledge, and an active practice of
truth, temperance, courage, strength, and wisdom. These are among the traits
Socrates lists as important to what such a person’s character should be.
The problem, Adeimantus interjects, is that no philosopher he can think of
would ever fill this bill:
Here Adeimantus interposed and said: To these statements, Socrates, no one can
offer a reply; but when you talk in this way, a strange feeling passes over the
minds of your hearers: They fancy that they are led astray a little at each step in
the argument, owing to their own want of skill in asking and answering ques-
tions; these little accumulate, and at the end of the discussion they are found to
have sustained a mighty overthrow and all their former notions appear to be
turned upside down. And as unskillful players of draughts are at last shut up by
their more skilful adversaries and have no piece to move, so they too find them-
selves shut up at last; for they have nothing to say in this new game of which
words are the counters; and yet all the time they are in the right. The observa-
tion is suggested to me by what is now occurring. For any one of us might say,
that although in words he is not able to meet you at each step of the argument,
he sees as a fact that the votaries of philosophy, when they carry on the study,
not only in youth as a part of education, but as the pursuit of their mature years,
most of them become strange monsters, not to say utter rogues, and that those
who may be considered the best of them are made useless to the world by the
very study which you extol.
Socrates counters that it is not philosophers who are the problem—there are
many excellent philosophers out there. Instead, it is actually the fault of a society
that can’t properly deal with such men that is the problem. He then launches into
a lengthy explanation of why this so. Essentially, by their very nature—their ability
to look beyond the literal world and deal with things as they are and not as they
appear to be—philosophers tend to be abrasive to the society in which they live.
(Socrates is no longer referring to his hypothetical city now—he’s talking about the
real world.)
Another obstacle to philosophers’ acceptance in society is the profusion of false
philosophers who only parrot what the public wants to hear (Sophists, Socrates reit-
erates, fall into this category). Such men are likely to be liked, but in terms of an
impact on the society around them, they usually do very little.
Socrates does propose a potential solution to this problem of philosophical
acceptance. Don’t train young men in their adolescence about the ways of the mind
and watch them give up in frustration the first time they’re seriously challenged.
Instead, educate them in philosophy when they’re older, after they’ve lived the full-
ness of their lives. Let the elderly take up the mantle of the philosophers and lend
their life experiences to their training. This, coupled with their societal respect, would
make them powerful forces.
Having answered most of his interlocutors’ objections, Socrates turns to the ques-
tion of how such philosophers should be educated. Socrates draws upon much of
the earlier educational requirements he outlined for the guardians as a basis for the
training of the philosopher-kings, but he stresses a most important part of the
training.
[Adeimantus] A right noble thought; but do you suppose that we shall refrain
from asking you what is this highest knowledge?
[Socrates] Nay, I said, ask if you will; but I am certain that you have heard the
answer many times, and now you either do not understand me or, as I rather
think, you are disposed to be troublesome; for you have of[ten] been told that
the idea of good is the highest knowledge, and that all other things become use-
ful and advantageous only by their use of this. You can hardly be ignorant that
of this I was about to speak, concerning which, as you have often heard me say,
we know so little; and, without which, any other knowledge or possession of any
kind will profit us nothing. Do you think that the possession of all other things
is of any value if we do not possess the good? Or the knowledge of all other things
if we have no knowledge of beauty and goodness?
Republic 75
Socrates then constructs three analogies, two of which are presented here in this
book, describing the nature of good. The first analogy is that of the Sun, where good
is described not as sight, but as the light the Sun provides so that the eyes can see
the world.
His second analogy is even more abstract, and here Plato really starts to use the
mathematical principles he learned while in Sicily. It is also the basis for his Theory
of Forms, which appears in Republic and in other, later dialogues. The line is an
important analogy because, although it is intended to show the nature of good, it also
delivers a powerful model for the cognitive abilities of a human being. The analogy
of the line builds upon the previous analogy of the Sun, where the Sun is Good shin-
ing down on all the realms that Plato, through Socrates, describes with the line.
Socrates describes a line dividing two realms, the realm of what is known and
what is opinion. Over both of these realms is the Sun-like Good. The line is repre-
sented in this diagram by the vertical line in the center of the figure.
Sun/Good
Knowledge Opinion
In the realm of opinion, there are two types of things that are perceived: actual,
physical objects and images of physical objects (such as shadows or reflections).
These are taken as opinion because they are things we believe we see, not things that
are actually known to be absolutely true.
In the realm of knowledge are the two groups that are absolutely true, no mat-
ter who is perceiving them: mathematical objects (which include geometric absolutes,
axioms, and hypotheses) and universal forms, such as virtue, justice, and the absolute
true nature of the universe.
With this in mind, the diagram can be modified to include the new subgroups.
Sun/Good
Forms Mathematical Physical Images of
Objects Objects Objects
Knowledge Opinion
It is a little counterintuitive to think of physical objects and their reflections as

opinion. Indeed, even Glaucon had trouble understanding it as Socrates was explain-
ing it to him. By opinion, Socrates is referring to that which is perceived and
interpreted by our senses. Physical objects, therefore, are directly perceived by our
physical senses. Images of objects, Socrates argued, are perceived by the imagination.
Things in the knowledge realm are not perceived, they are known. But the meth-
ods of obtaining that knowledge vary depending on the object. The nature of math-
ematical objects is discovered through understanding, while forms are known through
reasoning, such as the dialectic reasoning that Socrates and Plato are so fond of.
With these different perceptive methods in mind, the line now can be described
like this:
Sun/Good
(Through
Reasoning) (Through (Through (Through
Understanding) the Senses) Imagination)
Knowledge Opinion
The analogies of the Sun and the line are very important to remember, as they
will soon be used by Plato within the most famous Platonic analogy of all: the Anal-
ogy of the Cave.
Book VII: Rising Out of the Cave

When Book VII begins, Socrates is continuing his explanation of how the philoso-
pher-king needs to be educated. He immediately starts to describe a long, dark cave,
which is analogous to the boundaries society places on the soul of the individual.
Deep within the cave is where many people exist, bound by the strictures soci-
ety has placed on their knowledge, virtue, and sense of the universe around them.
Education, Socrates asserts, is the key to getting out of this cave. The more educa-
tion someone acquires, the more knowledge he obtains. And the more knowledge
someone has, the closer he is to achieving true good.
The previous analogy of the line can be adapted slightly to show this path from
the darkness of ignorance to the light of good. Instead of showing the Sun and Good
as equal analogous objects, we directly assign the Sun to shine on the realm of the
physical, and Good to enlighten the realm of knowledge. If these two objects at the
top of the chart represent the light at the mouth of the cave, then we can add a sim-
ple illustration to represent the dark of the cave.
Republic 77
Good Sun
(Through
Reasoning) (Through (Through (Through
Understanding) the Senses) Imagination)
Knowledge Opinion
The Cave
Getting from the bottom of the cave (at the bottom of the chart) to the top is a
matter of going through one of the four paths represented by the knowledge and
opinion groups. But, because the Sun is at the top of the realm of opinion, getting
to Good through an increased perception of physical objects or their images is not
going to work.
Instead, Socrates reasons, a philosopher-king can rise up from the cave through
the knowledge gained from education. He can rise up through understanding math-
ematical concepts and ideas, or through dialectic reasoning about forms, or both.
As he continues to learn, he will move toward the entrance of the cave.
Socrates spends a great deal of time in Book VII examining the different branches
of mathematics, such as planar and solid geometry, astronomy, and harmonics. He
also tries to define the dialectic form of learning but doesn’t quite hit the mark:
And so, Glaucon, I said, we have at last arrived at the hymn of dialectic. This is
that strain which is of the intellect only, but which the faculty of sight will nev-
ertheless be found to imitate; for sight, as you may remember, was imagined by
us after a while to behold the real animals and stars, and last of all the sun him-
self. And so with dialectic; when a person starts on the discovery of the absolute
by the light of reason only, and without any assistance of sense, and perseveres
until by pure intelligence he arrives at the perception of the absolute good, he at
last finds himself at the end of the intellectual world, as in the case of sight at
the end of the visible.
After Socrates has described, or tried to describe, the methods through which
the philosopher-king can reach Good, he emphasizes that this person will have to
ultimately go back into the cave in order to teach and rule over his subjects. This is
the burden and privilege of such a leader, who presumably will be able to bring some
of that light back into the cave with him, like a torch.
Glaucon and the rest seem more at ease with the model of government and soci-
ety in their hypothetical city (which they have now christened Callipolis). Socrates
details the order in which these subjects should be taught to the future kings and
describes how such a system could be brought into being:
[Socrates] They will begin by sending out into the country all the inhabitants of
the city who are more than ten years old, and will take possession of their chil-
dren, who will be unaffected by the habits of their parents; these they will train
in their own habits and laws, I mean in the laws which we have given them: and
in this way the State and constitution of which we were speaking will soonest
and most easily attain happiness, and the nation which has such a constitution
will gain most.
[Glaucon] Yes, that will be the best way. And I think, Socrates, that you have
very well described how, if ever, such a constitution might come into being.
[Socrates] Enough then of the perfect State, and of the man who bears its
image—there is no difficulty in seeing how we shall describe him.
[Glaucon] There is no difficulty, he replied; and I agree with you in thinking
that nothing more need be said.
But, of course, this model is only one of five societal models Socrates proposes,
and at the beginning of Book VIII, he picks up that line once again.
Book VIII: Beyond Callipolis

Socrates, with the help of the prodigious memory of Glaucon, gets the group back
to the line of thinking he was about to embark upon before being interrupted by
Adeimantus and Polemarchus. Glaucon repeats word for word where they were in
the conversation before they digressed, and then presses Socrates to hear more about
the four regimes Socrates was about to mention. Socrates replies:
That question, I said, is easily answered: the four governments of which I spoke,
so far as they have distinct names, are, first, those of Crete and Sparta, which are
generally applauded; what is termed oligarchy comes next; this is not equally
approved, and is a form of government which teems with evils: thirdly, democ-
racy, which naturally follows oligarchy, although very different: and lastly comes
tyranny, great and famous, which differs from them all, and is the fourth and
worst disorder of a State. I do not know, do you? of any other constitution which
can be said to have a distinct character. There are lordships and principalities
which are bought and sold, and some other intermediate forms of government.
But these are nondescripts and may be found equally among Hellenes and among
barbarians.
Republic 79
Glaucon agrees with these definitions, for the most part, and Socrates reiterates
why examining these four unjust societies (along with the one just Callipoian soci-
ety) is so crucial:
[Socrates] Do you know, I said, that governments vary as the dispositions of men
vary, and that there must be as many of the one as there are of the other? For we
cannot suppose that States are made of “oak and rock,” and not out of the human
natures which are in them, and which in a figure turn the scale and draw other
things after them?
[Glaucon] Yes, he said, the States are as the men are; they grow out of human
characters.
[Socrates] Then if the constitutions of States are five, the dispositions of indi-
vidual minds will also be five?
After revealing the most unjust of these societies, and then comparing with the
just one they have just modeled, the group should be able to determine which prof-
its a man more: justice or injustice. Socrates begins with a look at the Spartan aris-
tocracy, which he actually prefers to call a timocracy, or honor-loving regime. By his
definition, a timocracy is something that is a natural outgrowth of a pure aristocracy,
because such a society places value on honor above many other characteristics.
Essentially, the Spartan form of government falls under this description, which
is essentially halfway between an aristocracy and an oligarchy, in Socrates’s opinion.
Individuals in such a society become timocratic when they reason that the only way
to obtain power is through honor, and the only way to get honor is through power.
This, the whole society’s hierarchy is based not on the pursuit of good, but on the
pursuit of honor. Such a man’s soul would be constructed like this, Socrates explains:
The result is that the young man, hearing and seeing all these thing[s]—hearing
too, the words of his father, and having a nearer view of his way of life, and mak-
ing comparisons of him and others—is drawn opposite ways: while his father
is watering and nourishing the rational principle in his soul, the others are
encouraging the passionate and appetitive; and he being not originally of a bad
nature, but having kept bad company, is at last brought by their joint influence
to a middle point, and gives up the kingdom which is within him to the middle
principle of contentiousness and passion, and becomes arrogant and ambitious.
An oligarchy, the rule of a very few over many, accurately describes the rule of
the Thirty Tyrants, which (in this dialogue) is yet to come. Plato, writing this many
years later, probably knew full well whose government he was describing.
Socrates adds a bit more to the definition of oligarchy. He explains that it also
has much to do with the acquisition of property. The more property one has, the
more powerful one becomes. In such a society, a citizen’s character might be con-
structed in this manner:
And surely, the miser individually will be an ignoble competitor in a State for
any prize of victory, or other object of honourable ambition; he will not spend
his money in the contest for glory; so afraid is he of awakening his expensive
appetites and inviting them to help and join in the struggle; in true oligarchical
fashion he fights with a small part only of his resources, and the result commonly
is that he loses the prize and saves his money.
Next, Socrates shifts his attention to a democracy. Here, the citizens are allowed
to rule themselves. But because of the lack of social and political boundaries, it is
anyone’s guess how a citizen in such a regime will end up, though it’s not like they
will seek Good:
Yes, I said, he lives from day to day indulging the appetite of the hour; and some-
times he is lapped in drink and strains of the flute; then he becomes a water-
drinker, and tries to get thin; then he takes a turn at gymnastics; sometimes idling
and neglecting everything, then once more living the life of a philosopher; often
he is busy with politics, and starts to his feet and says and does whatever comes
into his head; and, if he is emulous of any one who is a warrior, off he is in that
direction, or of men of business, once more in that. His life has neither law nor
order; and this distracted existence he terms joy and bliss and freedom; and so
he goes on.
Finally, Socrates describes the tyrannical state, which Socrates believes can
be formed from a democratic state when some people acquire too much power for
the rest of the citizenry to hold them in check. Socrates does not directly describe the
nature of a citizen of this society yet, but rather that of the tyrant himself. Someone
who is constantly distrustful of everyone and hiding his true nature from everyone.
Book VIII ends before the nature of a citizen’s soul in this kind of regime is described.
Book IX: Justice versus Injustice

As Book IX starts, Socrates finishes up his description of the soul in a tyranny:
[Socrates] When he has nothing left, must not his desires, crowding in the nest
like young ravens, be crying aloud for food; and he, goaded on by them, and
especially by love himself, who is in a manner the captain of them, is in a frenzy,
and would fain discover whom he can defraud or despoil of his property, in order
that he may gratify them?
Republic 81
[Glaucon] Yes, that is sure to be the case.

[Socrates] He must have money, no matter how, if he is to escape horrid pains
and pangs.
[Glaucon] He must.
[Socrates] And as in himself there was a succession of pleasures, and the new got
the better of the old and took away their rights, so he being younger will claim
to have more than his father and his mother, and if he has spent his own share
of the property, he will take a slice of theirs.
[Glaucon] No doubt he will.
[Socrates] And if his parents will not give way, then he will try first of all to cheat
and deceive them.
After concluding his description of the tyrannical soul, Socrates then puts the
question to Glaucon: Of all these types of souls, which person will be the happiest?
[Socrates] Come then, I said, and as the general umpire in theatrical contests
proclaims the result, do you also decide who in your opinion is first in the scale
of happiness, and who second, and in what order the others follow: there are five
of them in all—they are the royal, timocratical, oligarchical, democratical,
tyrannical.
[Glaucon] The decision will be easily given, he replied; they shall be choruses
coming on the stage, and I must judge them in the order in which they enter,
by the criterion of virtue and vice, happiness and misery.
[Socrates] Need we hire a herald, or shall I announce, that the son of Ariston
(the best) has decided that the best and justest is also the happiest, and that this
is he who is the most royal man and king over himself; and that the worst and
most unjust man is also the most miserable, and that this is he who being the
greatest tyrant of himself is also the greatest tyrant of his State?
Not content with just this example, Socrates offers another proof. He first
distinguishes souls having three forms of desire: desire for wisdom, honor, and
money. After carefully explaining the nature of these desires, Socrates leads the group
to the conclusion that the lover of wisdom, because he will profit from his knowl-
edge at a very early age and will never lose his wisdom, is the clear winner in this
scenario.
Again, Socrates offers another proof by speculating on the nature of pleasure.
Although relief from pain and sensual pleasure are certainly good, they are far more
transient than the pleasure the soul feels when it obtains more knowledge. Socrates
feels that he has adequately stated the case for justice, and even manages to dissuade
the argument that a pure unjust soul still won’t profit as much as a normal just soul.
Book X: Loose Ends

The end of Book IX could almost end Republic. After all, the definition of justice
has been found, and the profit value of justice versus injustice has also been proved.
Plato seems to have some issues that he wants resolved before he closes the dialogue.
In Books II and III, there were discussions on imitative poetry as something that
could be used to educate the guardians of Callipolis.
Plato, through Socrates, seems to have some strong misgivings about imitative
poetry. No matter how pure an artist’s motives are, ultimately they’re going to place
their own perceptions and values within the work. Also, any poetry that imitates
the negative aspects of life is not desired. These poems, Socrates believes, are a real
danger; they can prevent the soul from achieving its full potential.
Socrates leaps from this point to the fact that the soul is, indeed, immortal,
because we cannot understand its full nature. Because of this, the soul is not tied to
a body and, therefore, must endure after the body is gone.
Using their definition of justice that he and his fellows have discovered, Socrates
goes on to speculate what rewards and penalties might await us all. For if the soul
is immortal, he reasons, then there will come a time when a reckoning will occur.
Socrates creates a particular picture of the afterlife he believes might await us,
based on the notion of justice he has just helped the men reason. It is a pleasant tale
of a thousand-year journey, which Socrates uses to end his lesson and the evening’s
conversation:
And thus, Glaucon, the tale has been saved and has not perished, and will save
us if we are obedient to the word spoken; and we shall pass safely over the river
of Forgetfulness and our soul will not be defiled. Wherefore my counsel is that
we hold fast ever to the heavenly way and follow after justice and virtue always,
considering that the soul is immortal and able to endure every sort of good and
every sort of evil. Thus shall we live dear to one another and to the gods, both
while remaining here and when, like conquerors in the games who go round to
gather gifts, we receive our reward. And it shall be well with us both in this life
and in the pilgrimage of a thousand years which we have been describing.
Further Reading
Plato’s Main Works

Apology Laches Republic
Charmides The Laws The Seventh Letter
Cratylus Lysis Sophist
Critias Meno Statesman
Crito Parmenides Symposium
Euthydemus Phaedo Theaetetus
Euthyphro Phaedrus Timaeus
Gorgias Philebus
Ion Protagoras
Collections, Biographies,
and Critical Works
Plato. Five Dialogues: Euthyphro, Apology, Crito, Meno, and Phaedo, 2nd ed. Trans.
G. M. A. Grube and John M. Cooper. Cambridge, MA: Hackett Publishing,
2002.
Plato. Plato Complete Works. Ed. John M. Cooper and D. S. Hutchinson.
Cambridge, MA: Hackett Publishing, 1997.
Plato. The Republic. Ed. G. R. F. Ferrari. Trans. Tom Griffith. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2000.
Taylor, A. E. Plato: The Man and His Work, 4th ed. Mineola, NY: Dover
Publications, 2001.
Plato Web Sites

Life of Plato and Philosophical Influences by W. K. C. Guthrie.
www.ellopos.net/elpenor/greek-texts/ancient-greece/
guthrie-plato.asp. — An excellent biographical site on Plato that gives
visitors key insights into how Plato lived and how it affected his work. Contains
downloadable Greek fonts for further research into original texts.
Plato and His Dialogues, University of Evansville. http://plato.
evansville.edu. — A complete biographical and analytical site that trans-
lates many of Plato’s major works.
Platonica by Christopher Planeaux. http://php.iupui.edu/
~cplaneau/plato_03_30.htm. — A wonderful site that contains the work
of one of the world’s foremost Platonic scholars.
General Philosophy
EpistemeLinks.com: Philosophy Resources on the Internet. www.
epistemelinks.com. — Includes more than 15,000 categorized links to
philosophy resources on the Internet.
Erratic Impact’s Philosophy Research Base. www.erraticimpact.
com. — A research database that taps into online and text works, in many philo-
sophical areas and genres.
The Internet Classics Archive. http://classics.mit.edu/index.
html. — By far the best site to read virtually all of Plato’s English translated
works.
Philosophy Pages, by Garth Kemerling. www.philosophypages.
com. — A broad general reference site that covers the history and development
of Western philosophy.
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, edited by Edward N. Zalta.
http://plato.stanford.edu. — An online version of the Stanford Ency-
clopedia of Philosophy with entries on philosophers, philosophy movements, and
philosophical concepts.
Thornburg, Thomas and Mary Thornburg. CliffsNotes Plato’s Republic. New York:
Wiley Publishing, Inc., 2000.
Index
unafraid of death, Socrates’s stance as,
33–35, 37–38
unexamined life, Socrates’s statement
on, 37
unpreparedness of Socrates, 22
verdict, 35–37
wisdom, Socrates’s statements on,
25–27, 33–34
writing of, 7
Archons (Athenian assembly representatives),
A 20–21
Archytas of Tarentum (philosopher), 7, 9, 10
Academy (Plato’s school), 8, 10, 39 aristocracy, 79
Adeimantus (character in Republic), 55–56, Ariston (mother of Plato), 2
60–67, 70, 73–74, 78 Aristophanes (The Clouds), 23–24
afterlife, Socrates’s view in Republic, 82 Aristotle (philosopher/student of Plato)
Alcibiades (Athenian politician), 3 attribution of writings to Plato, 18
analogy Parts of Animals, 17
of bees and virtue, in Meno, 42 as Plato’s student, 10
of the cave, in Republic, 76–77 army, professional, 62, 66
horse trainer, in Apology, 28–29 art education, 53, 64–65
of knowledge and belief, in Meno, 52 Assembly (Athenian), 20, 39
line, in Republic, 75–76 atheism, charge against Socrates, 31–33, 35
nature of good, in Republic, 75 Athena (goddess), 20
shepherd and justice, in Republic, 59 Athens
Anaxagoras (philosopher), 31 Plato’s early life in, 2–3
Anytus (Athenian assembly member) Thirty Tyrants (puppet government),
in Apology, 20, 27, 29, 36 4, 6–7, 30, 56–57, 79
in Meno, 39, 50–51 war with Sparta, 3–4, 6
Apollo (god), 25–26, 29 Atlantis, 18
Apology (Plato)
atheism, charge against Socrates,
31–33, 35 B
cross-examination of accusers, 27–33 beauty, 13, 14
defense by Socrates, 23–27 bees, analogy of, 42
description, 14 belief
eloquence, denial by Socrates, 22 importance to acquisition of
final statements by Socrates, 37–38 knowledge, 52
good and evil, Socrates’s statements on, virtue as, 52
29–30 Bendis (goddess), 56
guilt by reputation, 23–27
historical perspective, 19–21
horse trainer analogy, 28–29 C
ignorance of the law, as valid
Callipolis, 77–79, 82. See also city
defense, 30
Cave, Analogy of the, 76–77
natural philosopher, Socrates’s denial of
Cephalus (character in Republic), 55, 57–58
characterization as, 23, 24
Chaerephon (friend of Socrates), 25–26
opening statements, 21–22
Charmides (Athenian politician), 4, 6
sarcasm, by Socrates, 21, 24, 27
Charmides (Plato), 13
Sophist, Socrates’s denial of
city
characterization as, 23–27
constitution, 78
transcription of Socrates’s words by
educating guardians of, 62–66
Plato, 22
justice within, 61–63, 67–70
city (continued) enemy, definition of, 58

laws, refraining from overabundance epistemology, 5
of, 67 Eros, concept of, 15
as representation of human soul, 67–70 erotic dialogues, 15, 16
ruler selection, 65–66 etymology, 16
Socrates’s creation of hypothetical in Euthydemus (Plato), 16
Republic, 61–67 Euthyphro (Plato), 13
city-state, defined, 2 evil
Clouds, The (Aristophanes), 23–24 concept of, 13
color, Socrates’s examination of, 45 Eros and, 15
communal living, 71 Socrates’s statements in Apology, 29–30
Concerning Justice. See Republic (Plato) expression, freedom of, 63
conventionalism, 16
courage
concept of, 12, 13 F
stories of, 63–64 falsity, concept of, 18
Courage (Plato), 13 foreshadowing, in Meno, 40, 51
Cratylus (Plato), 16 Forms, Plato’s Theory of, 14, 16, 52, 53, 75
Critas (Athenian politician), 4, 6 friend, definition of, 58
Critias (Plato), 18
Crito (Plato), 14
G
D Glaucon (character in Republic), 55–57,
59–73, 77–82
death gods, government approved, 63
connection to philosophy, 16 good
Socrates’s statements on, 33–35, 37–38 analogies on nature of, 75
debt, payment of, 57–58 concept of good and evil, 13
Delphi, Oracle at, 25–26 Socrates’s statements in Apology, 29–30
democracy Socrates’s statements in Meno, 46
Athenian, 2 Gorgias of Leontium (Sophist), 24, 40, 41,
examination in Republic, 78 43
Plato’s views on, 3, 6, 54, 56 Gorgias (Plato), 14
Socrates’s views on, 4 governance
desires, of the soul, 81 examination in The Laws, 18
dialectic process of inquiry, 39, 77 forms of, 78–81
Dion of Syracuse, 8–10 justice in, 56
Dionysius I (king), 8 leader as personification of the Rule of
Dionysius II (king), 8–10, 16 Life, 18
division, of knowledge, 17 metaphysical concepts applied to, 15
philosophical ruler, 8, 9, 16, 54, 72–78
E philosophy’s role in, 15, 17
virtue and, 43–44
education Gynes the Lydian (shepherd), 60
analogy of the cave, 76–77
artistic, 53, 64–65
of city guardians in Republic, 62–66 H
importance of proper overall, 64–65 happiness, 61, 66
of philosopher rulers, 74, 76–78 harmony, concept of, 13
physical, 65 hemlock poisoning, Socrates’s death by, 38
of women, 71 Hippias Major, 13
elenctic method, 12, 17
Index 87
Hippias Minor, 13 theory of recollection, 47–48, 49

Hippias of Elis (Sophist), 24 as universal Form, 14
holiness, virtue of, 13 virtue as a form of, 49–50
honor Kritas, 10
desire to be honorable, 45
in timocracy, 79
horse trainer analogy, in Apology, 28–29 L
Laches (Plato), 7, 13
I language, imperfection of, 15
Late Period, writings of Plato, 14–16
identity, concept of, 13 laws, refraining from overabundance of, 67
ignorance of the law, as valid defense, 30 Laws, The (Plato), 10, 18, 53
immortal soul, 15, 47, 48, 82 learning, paradox of, 46–49
immortality, concept of, 40 life, connection to philosophy, 16
information resources line analogy, in Republic, 75–76
collections, biographies, and critical love
works, 83 concept of, 15, 16
Web sites, 84 old age and, 57
injustice, 60, 61, 62, 69–70. See also justice Lycon (Athenian assembly member),
inquiry, paradox of, 47 20, 27, 36
inspiration, concept of, 13 Lysis (Plato), 13
intellectual activity, versus physical
pleasure, 18
Ion (Plato), 13 M
mathematics
J branches of, 77
line analogy, in Republic, 75–76
jury, in Athenian system of justice, 21, 35–36 use for expressing the universe, 7–8,
justice 14, 15
Athenian system of, 20–21, 35–36 Mature Period, writings of Plato, 14–16
within a city, 61–63, 67–70 meaning, theory of, 16
compulsory nature of, 60 Megara (school location), 7
definition, 58–60 Meletus (Athenian assembly member), 20,
dispensing, 58, 61 21, 27–33, 35, 36
examination in Gorgias, 14 Memorabilia (Xenophon), 19
rewards of, 60–61, 81–82 Menexenus (Plato), 16
shepherd analogy in Republic, 59 Meno (Plato)
as theme in Republic, 15, 53–54, 55–63 analogy of bees and virtue, 42
as universal Form, 14 description, 16
virtue of, 43, 44 foreshadowing, 40, 51
immortal soul, Socrates’s belief in,
K 47, 48
paradox of learning, 46–49
knowledge perspective on, 39–40
belief, importance of, 52 Plato’s Theory of Forms in, 52
collection and division, 17 recollection, theory of, 47–48, 49
conceit of, 34 simile use in, 46
concept of, 13 Sophists, Socrates’s statements on,
examination in Theatetus, 16 50–51
Paradox of Inquiry, 47 virtue, definition of, 40–46
pleasure from, 81 virtue, teaching, 49–51
realm of, 75–77 writing of, 8, 39
Meno’s Paradox, 47
Metaphor of the Cave, 53 Planeaux, Christopher (historian), 1, 2

metaphysics Plato, life of
application to everyday life, 17 Academy, founding of, 8, 39
influences on Plato, 5 Aristotle and, 10
origins of universe and, 18 birth, 2
Plato’s Mature Period examination death, 10
of, 15 Dionysius II, education of, 8–10, 16
music, instruction in, 62–63, 64–65 early life, 2–4
family, 2
N Socrates, defense of, 7

Socrates, meeting of, 4–5
narrative, straightforward versus imitative, 64 Socrates, study with, 5
natural philosopher, 23, 24, 31 travels, 7–8
naturalism, 16 pleasure, nature of, 81
nature, tying forces to conflicts of Man, 18 poetry
Nicias (Athenian general), 3–4 imitative, 82
noble character, Socrates and quest for, 5 instruction in, 62–63
nonbeing, concept of, 18 of Plato, 5
Polemarchus (character in Republic),
55–58, 78
O politics
Plato’s avoidance of, 6, 7, 8
old age, representation in Republic, 55, 57
Plato’s family involvement in, 2–3, 4
oligarchy, 6, 78, 79–80
Socrates’s views on, 34–35
opinion, realm of, 75–77
Politicus (Plato), 18
Oracle at Delphi, 25–26
Prodicus of Ceos (Sophist), 24
oral tradition, Socrates and, 4
Protagoras (Plato), 7, 13
Protagoras (Sophist), 50
P Pythagoras (mathematician), influence on
Plato, 7–8, 11, 14, 45
Paradox of Inquiry, 47
Parmenides (Plato), 16
Parts of Animals (Aristotle), 17 Q
patriotism, examination in Menexenus, 16
questioning, by Socratic method, 12
Peace of Nicias, 3
perception, methods of, 75–76
Perictone (father of Plato), 2
Persia, war with Athens, 4, 6
R
persuasion, Sophist teaching method, 23 rationality, concept of, 13
Phaedo (Plato), 15, 16, 38, 40 recollection, theory of, 47–48, 49
Phaedrus (Plato), 15, 16 Republic (Plato)
Pheidias (sculptor), 50 Analogy of the Cave, 76–77
Philebus (Plato), 18 Book I, 56–60
philosopher Book II, 60–63
education of, 74, 76–78 Book III, 63–66
false, 74 Book IV, 66–70
natural, 23, 24, 31 Book V, 70–73
pre-Socratic, 23, 31 Book VI, 73–76
society’s problems with, 74 Book VII, 76–78
philosophical ruler (philosopher-king), 8, 9, Book VIII, 78–80
16, 54, 72–78 Book IX, 80–82
philosophy Book X, 82
Euthydemus examination of, 16 characters, 54–55
Web sites, 84
Index 89
city as representation of human soul, Thirty Tyrants, connection to, 6–7, 20

67–70 virtue (theme), 5, 6, 20, 22
communal living, 71 Socrates, trial of
description, 16 atheism, charge against Socrates,
education of city guardians, 62–66 31–33, 35
forms of government, 78–81 charges against Socrates, 7
justice defended by Socrates, 61 eloquence, denial by Socrates, 22
justice defined, 58–60 final statements by Socrates, 37–38
justice within a city, 61–63, 67–70 guilt by reputation, 23–27
mathematical concept use in, 8 historical perspective, 19–21
metaphysical concepts applied to natural philosopher, Socrates denial of
governance, 15 characterization as, 23, 24
nature of good analogies, 75 opening statements, 21–22
organization of, 54 sentencing, 36–37
perspective on, 53–55 Sophist, Socrates denial of
philosopher-kings, 72–78 characterization as, 23–27
role of women, 71–72 students of Socrates at, 7, 35
shepherd analogy, 59 unpreparedness of Socrates, 22
Socrates as narrator, 54 verdict, 7, 35–37
stages of humanity represented in, 55 wisdom, Socrates’s statements on,
themes, 55–56 25–27, 33–34
writing of, 8 Socratic dialogues, 7, 12–14. See also specific
rhetoric, Sophist teaching method, 23 works
right and wrong, determination through Socratic method, 12
reason, 14 Socratic Period, writings of Plato, 11–14
romance, concept of, 15, 16 Sophistes (Plato), 18
Rule of Life, 18 Sophists, 20, 23–24, 25, 50–51, 59
ruler Sophocles (poet), 57
just, 59 soul
lying by, 64 city as representation of, 67–70
outward focus of, 59 elements of, 69
philosopher-kings, 8, 9, 16, 54, 72–78 forms of desire, 81
selection of, 65–66 immortality of, 15, 47, 48, 82
musical training effect on, 64
S types, 70
in a tyranny, 80–81
sarcasm, by Socrates, 21, 24, 27 Sparta
self-examination, 17 governance examined in Republic,
shape, Socrates’s examination of, 44, 45 78, 79
shepherd analogy of justice, in Republic, 59 Thirty Tyrants, connection to, 6–7,
Sicily, 3–4, 8–9, 16 20, 57
simile, use in Meno, 46 war with Athens, 3–4, 6
Simonides (wise man), 58 Statesman, The (Plato), 18
social stratification, maintaining, 66 strength, justice and, 59
Socrates Sun analogy, in Republic, 75
death, 7, 11, 38 Symposium (Plato), 8, 15, 16
divine vision, 6, 12, 20, 22
eulogy for, 16
meeting Plato, 4–5 T
oral tradition, 4 teaching
as Plato’s teacher, 5 qualifications for, 50, 51
role of narrator in Republic, 54 of virtue, 49–51
temperance in human soul, 70

in a city, 68 learning of, 13
stories of, 64 Plato and, 5, 13, 16
virtue of, 13, 43 power of governing mankind, 43–44
Temperance (Plato), 13 Socrates, importance of theme to, 5, 6,
Theatetus (Plato), 16 12, 20, 22
themes, of Republic, 55–56. See also specific Socrates’s bee analogy, 42
themes teaching of, 49–51
Themistocles (Athenian), 57 as universal Form, 14
Theory of Forms (Plato’s), 14, 16, 52, 53, 75
Thirty Tyrants (Athenian puppet
government), 4, 6–7, 20, 56–57, 79 W
Thrasymachus (character in Republic), 55, war, origin of, 62
58–60, 70 water clock, 7
Thucydides (Athenian), 51 wealth
Timaeus (Plato), 18 benefit of, 57
timocracy, 79 limiting, 66
truth Web sites, 84
concept of, 13 wisdom
stories on, 64 in a city, 68
tyranny, 78, 80–81 happiness and, 81
of philosopher rulers, 72–78
U Socrates and, 25–27, 33–34
women, role in Socrates’s hypothetical city,
unexamined life, Socrates’s statement on, 37 71–72
universal constants, 14 writings of Plato. See also specific titles
universe disputed attribution, 18
mathematics use for expressing, 7–8, Late Period, 14–16
14, 15 letters, 18
origin of, 18 main works, list of, 83
pre-Socratic philosopher and, 23, 31 Mature Period, 14–16
Utopian state, 53 Socratic Period, 11–14
V X
vice, in human soul, 70 Xenophon (historian), 19, 22
virtue
as a belief, 52
commonality of, 42, 44 Y
definition of, in Meno, 40–46 youth, representation in Republic, 55

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PLATO

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THE PUBLISHER AND THE AUTHOR MAKE NO REPRESENTATIONS OR WARRANTIES WITH

Cataloging-in-Publication Data available from the Library of Congress.

2 Plato’s Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11

Further Reading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .83

“I am that gadfly which God has given the

Plato’s Early Life

The Influence of Socrates

Becoming Socrates’s Student

The Opening of the Academy

Plato’s Return to Italy

The Final Years

“There is no such thing as a lovers’ oath.”

Before examining some of Plato’s more influential works, it is necessary to take a

The Socratic Period

The Meaning of Virtue

Writings of the Socratic Period

n Apology: A critical dialogue on the trial and execution of Socrates. Apology

The Mature Period

Separating Form from Function

Writings of the Mature Period

The Late Period

Continuing the Conversation

Writings of the Mature Period

n Sophistes: This dialogue examines the concept of falsity and nonbeing.

n Philebus: Advocacy of intellectual activity over physical pleasure is the theme

“Not much time will be gained, O Athenians,

Opening Statements, Cross Exam,

Socrates is sarcastically feigning confusion, having been “dazzled” by the bril-

Taking on the Accusers

Referring to Meletus as a “good and patriotic man” is unmitigated sarcasm,

[Meletus] Yes, I do.

[Meletus] Yes, certainly.

In this exchange, which is fairly straightforward, Socrates backs Meletus into a

[Meletus] Intentionally, I say.

This exchange contains a core piece of Socrates’s philosophy regarding what is

Now Socrates pounces on Meletus’s contradictory statements: How can Socrates

Socrates then moves to another point, indicating that if he is indeed a corrupter

“You argue that man cannot enquire either

Meno is actually an introductory dialogue to Phaedo, in which Socrates is about

The Nature of Virtue

[Meno] There will be no difficulty, Socrates, in answering your question. Let us

[Meno] I did say so.

The Paradox of Learning

[Socrates] I can tell why you made a simile about me.

Socrates’s more-difficult questions. Meno is impressed at this demonstration, which

[Socrates] But if he always possessed this knowledge he would always have

Knowledge and Belief

“For what men say is that, if I am really just

The Themes of Republic

Book I: Beginning the Search for Justice

Immediately, Socrates picks up on the topic of justice, and begins to question

Book II: A City of Justice

[Socrates] And now, Adeimantus, is our State matured and perfected?

Book III: Educating the Guardians

[Socrates] And therefore, I said, Glaucon, musical training is a more potent

[Socrates] Or, as we recognize the reflection of letters in the water, or in a mir-

[Glaucon] Very true, he replied.

Book IV: The City as Soul

[Socrates] The regulations which we are prescribing, my good Adeimantus, are

[Glaucon] What do you mean?

In a funny, roundabout way, Socrates is describing justice as the ability of each